



























■*k'' 


?? I'ih ■ ' ■ V' ' 


I 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


IT, 


Shelf 


■pz.'* 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




















0.51, THE COSMOPOLITAN SERIES. Jan. 21 , 1890. 


Illlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllillllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllllilllllllllllllll 







lllllllllllllllllllllltlltlllllllllllllllllUllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllltllllllllllllllllllMllllllllllllllllllltllVIlllllllllllllIHlIIIIIIIIII 






liiSE Tavei^^ieh 


Ft^om Mndep the Veil, 

BY 

RliPHOfiSB DAt/DET. 

.iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiifiiiiiiiiiiii 



PRICE, - - TWEXTY-FIVE CEYTS. 


iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnniiiiiinuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniuiiiiimiiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiitiiimimiiii 




iiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin»nnnnniinniiniinnnniiiiniiiiiinnm»miniinniinnniinniiiiiinniinnnnnn,nn‘ii 


Issuei Montlilj. Price, per Year in sdrance. Bntered at Kew York Post Office as Second Class Matter. 


I CATARRH, 

(Catarrhal Deafness— Hay 
Fever, Influenza. 

A nW HOKE TBEATMEKT. . 

Sufferers are not generally aware 
that these diseases are contagious, or 
that they are^ due to the presence of 
living parasites in the lining mem- 
■ brane of the nose and eustachian tubes. 
Microscopic research, however, has 
proved this to be a fact, and the result 
of this discovery is that a simple remedy 
, has been formulated whereby catarrh, 
[catarrhal deafness and hay fever are 
'permanently cured in from one to three 
.simple applications made at home by 
the patient once in two weeks. 

N. B. — This treatment is not a snuff 
or anointment; both have been dis- 
carded by reputable physicians as in- 
jurious. A pamphlet explaining this 
new treatment is sent free on receipt 
of stamp to pay postage, by A. H. 
Dixon & Son, 337 and 339 West King 
Street, Toronto, Canada. — Christian 
Advocate. 

Sufferers from Catarrhal troubles 
should carefully read the above. 

TBE milMIST’S 

eoM 

A complete instructor in the 
art of collecting, preparing, 
mounting, and preserving all 
kinds of animals, birds, fishes, 
reptiles, and insects. Adapted 
I for the use of amateurs, travel- 
ers, and practical workers. A 
number of the best recipes are 
given, as used by the best taxi- 
dermists, for articles used in 
the preservation and the setting 
up of animals. Illustrated. 


TE AMERICAN BOOK OF 
GENTEEL BEBAYIOR. 

A complete handbook of mod- 
ern etiquette for ladies and gen- 
tlemen. A perusal of this fook 
will enable every one to rub off 
the rough husks of ill-breeding 
and neglected education, and 
substitute for them gentlemanly 
ease and graceful, ladylike de- 
portment (as the case may be), 
so that their presence will be 
Bought for, and they will learn 
the art of being not only 
thoroughly at home in all soci- 
eties, but will have the rarer gift 
of making everybody around 
them feel easy, contented, and 
happy. This work is fully up to 
the requirements of the times; 
it describes the etiquette of our 
very best society. 

i New MeU of Treat- 
ing Disease. 

HOSPITAL REMEDIES. 

What are they ? There is a new departure 
in the treatment of disease. It consists in the 
collection of the specifics used by noted 
specialists of Europe and America, and bring- 
ing them within the reach of all. For instance 
the treatment pursued by special physicians 
who treat indigestion, stomach and liver 
troubles only, was obtained and prepared. 
The treatment of other physicians, celebrated 
for curing catarrh and influenza, was procured 
and so on till these incomparable cures now 
include disease of the lungs, kidneys, female 
weakness, rheumatisiu and nervous debility. 

This new method of “one remedy for one 
disease” must appeal to the common sense 
of all sufferers, many of whom have experi- 
enced the ill effects, and thoroughly realize 
the absurdity of the claims of Patent Medi- 
cines which are guaranteed to cure every ill 
out of a single bottle, and the use of which, 
as statistics prove has ruined more stomachs 
than alcohol. A circular describing these new 
remedies is sent free on receipt of stamp to 
pay postage by Hospital Remedy Cooipasy, 
Toronto, Canada, sole proprietors. 


LISE TAVERNIER: 


OR, 


FROM UNDER THE VEIL. 


BT 

ALPHONSE DAUDET, 

Author of “jack," “one of the forty immortals," “sappho," etc. 

Translated by 

HENRY e. WILLIAMS, 

Author of “the bells," “in the ranks," “lady of lyons," “fool’s revenge," 

“TICKET OF LEAVE MAN," ETC. 


{ FLB 271899-^1 


' ^ NEW YORK : 

HURST & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
122 Nassau Street. 

Copyright, 1890, by Hurst & Co. ' 


\ 



ARGYLE PRESS, 

Printing and Bookbinding^ 


265 A 267 CHERRY 8T., N. 


m 


m 







LISE TAVERNIER 


CHAPTER I. 

THE WITNESS OF CRIME. 

Les Roches Gris — Gray rocks — is a fishing port and 
bay near Toulon. Too lowly to be visited by the Afri- 
can sand-storm, it looks, smiling confidently, out on the 
ever-blue Mediterranean — a sheet of gold or of silver as 
sun or moon showers brilliancy upon it. 

One June morning in i8i6, a girl, feeling in vain for 
the latchstring at the door of a fisher’s cottage remote 
from the hamlet cluster, stopped abruptly, for there were 
two broad bands of white tape crossed over the door 
and its jamb, and secured by two ponderous dabs of 
scarlet wax ; in these was deeply impressed the seal of 
the Police Central Office at Toulon. 

Although the girl was clad poorly and like the women 
of the fishers’ town, she had a fine figure, small hands 
and feet, and delicately finished features. The angelic 
sweetness upon them was the mirror of an immaculate 
soul. Out of her large blue eyes flowed a gentle but 
penetrating light, and when they gazed between their 
long golden lashes up at heaven, as now in her wonder- 
ment, it seemed impossible for angels not to greet her 
prayer. 

She had the courage to try the door, but it was 
firmly fastened. 

*‘Ah!” she exclaimed, as a shadow was projected 
towards her from the highway where a man had stopped. 

Uncle Fulcran ! oh, why cannot I go in ? ” 


3 


4 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


Uncle Fulcran was a weasel and squirrel in combina- 
tion, and made into a man. Sometime a seafarer, some- 
time a mountaineer, and latterly a market gardener on 
the sheltered plot purchased with his gains in the double 
smuggling trade on land and water. Old Fulcran was 
the village miser and speculative supporter of the local 
fleet. Too cunning to be held responsible as maire, he 
was unofficially the potentate of that little nook. 

Thin and with the figure of a boathook or a potato- 
dibber, his deepset visage between a bulbous forehead 
and a salient chin, resembled the moon’s crescent as in 
comic pictures where a tip of nose is added. He wore 
the cast-ofT black coat of some Toulon law-court usher 
and a once-white beaver hat, never dressed, which little 
accorded with his coarse breeches, rusty steel buckles 
and homespun stockings. Too proud to wear wooden, 
shoes, he compromised between them and the foot-gear 
of the citizens by preserving the well cobbled leather 
shoes of his father — being fishermen’s boots cut down 
after wreck of the high uppers. 

“ Because they are seals,” answered he. 

Seals ! what are they ? ” 

Cardeline, niece, these seals are put on the door by 
the authorities to prevent anybody opening them. They 
came over from the town, hearing of your father’s having 
levanted, and took possession. It appears that he sailed 
away to avoid a criminal charge. — Alas ! that we are not 
all honest in our hitherto unblemished family ! ” sighed 
he hypocritally. 

“ But I must go in — I must have a home ! help me, 
uncle ! ” 

Oh, I cannot do that. To break the official seals is 
handcuffs, the bilboes, the gaol, and used to be the 
galleys.” 

“ But I do not care for the galleys, uncle,” cried Car- 
deline. 'T can row, and sail a boat.” 

‘‘ Yes, your father had better have taught you the use 
of the needle. But do not break those seals, whatever 
you do, Cardeline.” 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


5 


ril do nothing wrong, Uncle.” 

The old man smiled and shuffled away, as the girl 
sank on the stone door-step, and, with her fine fingers 
interlaced over her knees, meditated. 

Her short life, almost bounded by yesterday, passed 
before her. A beautiful mother, dead so early that her 
image was less substantial in memory than those in the 
church, but as glorious with azure, pink and gold, having 
her own eyes, color and hair. Then a lonely life, watch- 
ing the clouds in summer, keeping the fire in during winter 
when the rain lashed the cabin till it fairly trembled and 
shrank ; her father, a gloomy, reserved man. During 
the Napoleonic wars, the game of smuggling drew all 
free and daring spirits into its control. Charles Beaujard 
was an active seaman and knew these waters from Rome 
to Gibraltar like his pocket. He was seen, too, on the 
Jura, daring the crag whence he scared the vulture as he 
had the Mistral on a cockel-shell in the Gulf of Genoa. 

Learning that a special force was on the march from 
the town to arrest him, he had simply sent his daughter 
on a wild goose chase, and, in her absence, he had cleared 
the cabin of portable property and was gone — like the 
foam on the billow. 

This departure without a hint, without leaving some 
support or even a recommendation to a relative, startled 
Cardeline. One' may not be older than seventeen and 
be brought up remote from the world, and yet, by intu- 
ition feel aware of what should be the course of things. 

This darksome, self-contained father had, at all events, 
been kind, and she had never wanted for half the bread 
he broke at a meal, and the intermediate portion of 
a fish. 

He must have left something for his daughter, if only 
good wishes. But, in whose care ? 

There was no near neighbor, and his only shipmate 
had been shot in Corsica by the coast-guardsmen in the 
foregoing autumn. 

What should she do : homeless, scantily clad, and 
without food or means ? 


6 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


Her eyes became fixed under her frowning brows, and 
with a nervous laugh, as an idea flashed into her brain, 
she leaped up and set off at a run. 

Passing the cottages, ramblingly strung along a wind- 
ing road, here and there liable to be washed by the sea 
in anger, passing the roof on stilts where fish market 
was held in the tunny and sardine seasons, passing the 
stone house where vagrants were incarcerated, passing 
the shops — she arrived at her Uncle Fulcran’s dwelling. 

It was only two stories high at the best parts, but it 
covered a good extent of ground when you came to give 
it a searching scrutiny. With mock humility, it sprawled 
in objection like a cuttlefish beseeching pity because it 
was so unwieldy on the sands. 

Here lodged all the cluster of buildings having a com- 
mon hall where they met at times of family council — 
Uncle Fulcran, his wife, their mothers, his sister, her 
brother, the children. 

Cardeline reached the door breathlessly and knocked 
hesitatingly. 

“ Come in ! ” was spoken within. 

She entered boldly, passed along the short passage 
and stepped into the large room where Uncle Fulcran 
was the centre of a group, no doubt discussing his report 
of having seen the lamb of the black sheep. 

“ It is I ! ” she called out as one who launches^ a 
challenge. 

Fulcran’s eldest son and he turned round on her 
sharply. 

“Get you gone, spawn of the smuggler ! ” cried her 
aunt, still more promptly. 

“ Not before my uncle gives me the message my father 
left with him for me ! ” 

M — m — message,” mumbled Fulcran, turning green 
under his leather skin. 

“ Before my father sailed, he thought of his only child 
and he* left me — whatever he left me. Uncle Fulcran, give 
me — or have the account to render of it when the arch- 


LISE TA VERNIER, 

angel’s trumpet blows and the saints and the doomed 
are divided by the flaming sword ! ” 

She spoke like one inspired, but Fulcran was not the 
man to act counter to his rigid principles in the bosom 
of his family. He gave his wife an appealing glance and 
that species of harpy flew towards the girl, grasped her 
by the shoulder with claw- like hand, and said again : 

“ Get you gone! it was your mother- — not your father 
who was a Fulcran — so thank heaven 1 she died without 
knowing what disgrace falls justly on your good-for- 
nothing father, and what poverty as justly on your 
good-for-nothing self. Begone 1 ” 

“ You will not harbor me ! you insult my father 1 you 
call me worthless! I shall come again with my father, or 
Our Father in Heaven will demand recompense for this 
outrage on an orphan-girl ! ” 

Enfevered with excitement, she ran out and towards 
the coast. 

The green waves lapped the shingle and the tide was 
out. An old man, with back like a turtle’s, was turning 
over the long rope of rubbish which the waters had 
woven. 

^‘Antonin,” she cried, where is my father?” 

Too old for the navy and even for fishing, Antonin 
was a sort of ragpicker of the ocean. Nevertheless, he 
saw many things with his dimmed eyes, and as a weather 
prophet, that most essential appendage to a fishing 
village, Antonin was without rival even as far as the 
Roches Singlantes. 

“At sea!” was the oracular response. 

“ But no boats went out last night.” 

She had heard that said. 

“ No ; but your father is an old salt-water sailor. 
Knowing that the regular packet boat between Corsica 
and Marseilles would be passing off thereaway — ” he 
pointed with a bony finger like an iron hook — “ towards 
morning, he borrowed a boat of that old curmudgeon 
his brother-in-law, Fulcran, at the Moor’s-head Rocks 
and rowed away off soundings. He will have laid him* 


8 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


self in the Janua CoeWs course, been picked up and hey 
ho ! sing confusion to the city sharks who were after 
him ! 

The old man’s chuckle was extinguished in a dry 
cough which hinted of the churchyard on the back -hills, 
with its narrow avenue of granite crosses for the rich, 
and decaying wooden ones for their inferiors. 

Then my father is safe ? ” 

“ Safety, lass ? where is there safety unless in the open 
sea on a bark sailed by the owner and him having his 
son aboard? but there he is surely, and, if she does not 
touch at Toulon, she will land him at Marseilles. A gold 
man can be hid in Marseilles and the Police Minister of 
the Emperor never sniff him out so much as to get the 
stuff for an earring off him.” 

“ Antonin, would my father have gone away without 
leaving a token for his child ? ” 

“No sailor would do that, for wife and child, always 
to the bottom of his purse ’tis Jack’s way.” 

“Then he would trust Uncle Fulcran to give it me?” 

“That he would — your father being heroic, as the 
Italians say — I wouldn’t ! — not to the value of a thole- 
pin. Poor child — if you look to your uncle ! By the 
star of the sea ! you had better come to my hole in the 
rocks than beg at Uncle Fulcran’s great poulp of a 
house ! ” 

Cardeline knew how right he was. She resumed her 
stroll, eying the sea sidewise. At one spot, where the 
beach ran down with a gentle, alluring slope on the 
softest of sand which would not have cut a satin slipper, 
she turned and proceeded to the retiring creamy edge. 

A little older and more despairing, she would per- 
chance have walked on and into her death, but to the 
young, water is cold and death must come in an agreea- 
ble shape. Even now, had her steps gone upon the 
rocks to the cliff verges she might have felt her head 
swim with vertigo from gazing too long over sea where 
her father was sailing, and precipitated herself over. 

On the contrary, she sat down on a cushion of sea- 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


9 

weed, exhausted by an overcharge of emotion and ques- 
tions above her inexperience to solve, and mused. 

In an hour the tide would turn and soon after it would 
idly enfold her here ! It might lift her up and float her 
away through the fog between sunlight and moonlight 
and drive her against her father’s ship. 

Was there not a sail on the horizon out there ? 

The mists thickened and hovered over the tranquil 
waters ; the skyline was dappled with ruddiness on the 
cold blue ; there would be wind next day, old Antonin 
would have said. The tide was on the ebb. 

Her reflections verged into waking dreams. She lived 
again thi^ eventful day debarred from home, expelled 
from her uncle’s, repudiated by all the village. Suddenly 
she became partly conscious and at least recognized that 
she was at the edge of the sea. The moon shone in full 
power, and was hung above in the spotless blue so 
detached that it would seem a giant could put his hand 
behind it and undo tke invisible chains which suspended 
it. The smooth waters were a silver plate on which not 
a trace was visible ; though, at the shore, a slight ripple 
showed where the elements conjoined. 

It seemed to her, closed though were her eyes, that 
she saw a ship on which she knew her father was, sailing 
upon this silver plate, without breeze to ruffle it or fill 
her sails. If so, as she headed towards Grayrocks, she 
would be bearing the fugitive int5 the wolf’s mouth. 

At the same time she experienced a shock of cold and 
she was aroused. The. rising tide was laving the poor 
child’s feet. A little longer and she niight have been 
insidiously and insensibly drawn upon the fluid and 
brought out to that ship. 

For a vessel was really there, and, though it was not 
approaching land, it swayed a little, careened as though 
yielding to a wind, and was ghostly if only from the 
silence which shrouded it. This stillness was empha- 
sized by the swish of the mounting surge. 

Her eyes cleared and she forgot her troubles at the 


10 


LISE TAVERNIER. 

view of the disaster in course of occurrence .: that vessel 
was sinking ! 

There was a spell in being the sole observer. For 
nobody walked on the cliff-road and none along the 
strand. It was after midnight and the village was in 
slumber, unless Fulcran was sitting up where the candle 
twinkled through the crannies of his shutter, reckoning 
the silver which he was putting in his store and which 
Beaujard had entrusted to him to succor his niece. 
She was still sure of this assumption being true. 

It might be proved true, now — for a boat was pulling 
off from the tilted ship. It was easy for the three men 
who stepped into it to leave the side, already well under 
water. They hastened, too, for the sea would soon 
plunge into the open hatchways. The masts leaned 
over so that the boat, shoving off, had to steer out 
between two of them and the stays were used by the 
men to help them get clear. 

Cardeline scarcely breathed ; far from her any idea to 
cry out. Let the vessel sink — all the more as there 
seemed nobody left on board — undoubtedly one of these 
men was her father ! 

It made speedily for the Grayrocks, the one she 
took to be her father steering with an oar, for the inlet 
between the large boulders, like one familiar with the 
coast. A younger man and an older pulled hastily at 
the oars ; they were muffled, and the boat moved as 
silently and spectrally as the ship in its submersion. 

By this, the masts lay level with the water which so 
gradually flowed into the hold and cabin that there was 
no gurgling, far less explosion of the confined air. The 
ill-fated bark was going down without even the squeak- 
ing of a rat. 

Cardeline heeded it not, for all her attention was con- 
centrated upon the boat. 

Its inmates gave ample food for attention, not to say 
for interest and anxiety. At some four hundred paces 
from the rocks, it suddenly ceased to move so rapidly, 
the oarsmen relinquishing their task. The steersman 


LISE TAVERNIEE. 


II 


said something and the watcher's ears tingled, for that 
was the paternal voice. She wished to call out a wel- 
come, but the words froze on her lips, not for precaution’s 
sake, but at the sight of the two men with the oars fall- 
ing upon the third. With a crushed skull and a broken 
shoulder, he was hurled over the side, and sank. Innu- 
merable circles of gleaming silver formed halo within 
halo around the spot of disappearance, but they became 
flattened and spread into thinness ; soon the site of the 
murder was indefinable. 

The murderers did not lose time in seeking it ; like a 
tiger from which one prey has been snatched, the 
younger man leaped on the other — two knife-blades 
flashed but not quite simultaneously. One was sheathed 
in the water, but the other in a human breast. Carde- 
line heard the deep sigh of the air forced out by the 
impress of the hilt. The young man stood alone in the 
boat from which atrocious murder had removed his com- 
panions. 

The watcher gazed all around, disbelieving her eyes. 
The ship had vanished as if it never had existed, though 
a few articles of deck lumber dotted the silver sheen, 
and at one point a black object obtruded — a shark's fin 
or her highest top mast head. 

The young man was certainly all alone in the boat, 
and easily paddling for shore. 

Cardeline thought only of flight from him, but the sea 
had crept round at her back in a depression of the sand ; 
she became confused, “ turned,” as foresters say, and, 
blundering, fell into a quicksand pit. 

At last she found her voice and shrieked, but her 
throat was choked and the sound barely reached the 
man in the boat. He turned his head and by his baleful 
glance, one could see that he meant to leave not a wit- 
ness of his treachery and double crime. But he saw 
a figure on the road amongst the cottages and resuming 
his former direction and taking both oars up vigorously, 
disappeared around the rocks as the stranger came down 
on the beach. 


12 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


It was a woman on a mule. A woman in better 
dress than a peasant, a dark stuff cloak with a riding 
hood, somewhat monastic. On perceiving who had 
appealed for assistance, for Cardeline was battling for air, 
her arms tossing and the shifting sands up to her waist — 
she hurried on the mule. Her cowl blew back, and 
revealed the face of a superb woman of thirty. 

That she was tall and robust was manifest, and the full 
cloak could not conceal that she was even more elegant 
in contour and fineness of the waist and ankle. Her 
throat was statuesquely perfect, and was joined by what 
is styled “The necklace of Venus ” to matchless shoul- 
ders. Such a throat never yet belonged to any figure 
but a tall and well-made one. The complexion was a 
little sallow as of a nun or other person dwelling in 
shadow, but the air of the country was too healthful 
not to wrestle with the morbidezza and the tint was fresh. 

Coming upon the sands, she alighted and flung off 
hood and cloak. She tucked up the flowing sleeves of 
her serge body and her beauty of form and face was now 
unveiled. 

From between long brown lashes deep blue eyes, black 
out of the moonlight, glowed like the sapphire brought 
into the dusk. Her milk-white teeth gleamed between 
lips which no recluse’s life could dull or thin ; her hair 
had the hue and gloss of the raven’s blue-black wing. 

Strong as most men, she valiantly approached the 
quicksand, wading in without hesitation. But Carde- 
line was not within her grasp. She retraced her steps 
and pulled the headgear off the mule which, inquisitive, 
had stopped still and lengthened out head and neck to 
examine the almost submerged girl. With this leather 
rope of the bridle she entangled the still gesticulating 
hands of the girl ; they grasped it with the tenacity of 
the proverbial drowning man’s clutch and with two 
energetic pulls, Cardeline was drawn to the firmer ground. 
The rising tide did not allow any lingering here, and 
the rescuer took up the girl as if she had been a child 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


13 


and transported her up the beach slope to the highway- 
side. 

“ Cardeline ! ” she said, as she loosened her bodice, 
chafed her hands, dried her and finally enfolded her in 
her cloak. “ My own kin ! I see ! the village has 
scorned her, too, driven her out with stones as they once did 
me ! the poor lonely child meant to kill herself. I have 
saved* her from the crime.” 

She placed the insensible girl on the mule, bitted and 
bridled it to its no small discontent, and drove it so bur- 
dened out the village, up to the cliffs and thence by a 
road seldom or never used but by herself, into the 
interior. 


'CHAPTER II. 

IN THE CHURCH FURNISHER'S. 

Nearly half a year has gone by since the ship sank 
in the Bay of Grayrock and the solitary survivor escaped 
under the eyes of Cardeline Beaujard. The wreck had 
gone out in the channel to the fathomless sea and there 
remained out of human ken or broke up bit by bit. 

The village was ignorant of the silent wreck, and no 
report from its sleepy coastguard reached Toulon. 

That great port and stronghold, with a haven encum- 
bered with magnificent vessels of war and of trade, in 
nowise missed one hull more or less. The sunshine 
beamed gladly on so much wealth as the sounds of 
industry began again as its rays fell indifferently around 
on the church-spire and the cobbler's stall, the asylum 
and the thieves’ lodging-house, the purveyors to glut- 
tony and the purveyors to religious needs. 

Where should there have been greater peace, joy and 
comfort than at Monsieur Magasm T Ornements 

d' Eglise ” — so was writ in gold in Gothic letters which 
of themselves inspired a reverence in the profane papers ? 


H 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


A blessed working place ! an ingenious spring to catch 
the woodcock Respectability! 

M. Roure had the finest ecclesiastical warehouse in 
Toulon, which is tantamount to saying, in the south of 
France, Marseilles included. 

There was a wide double window on the street, a door 
way of olden carved oak which might have come from a 
demolished chapel, and a capacious shop. It was crojvded 
with church paraphernalia, chasubles, capes, censors, 
chaplets, crucifixes of holy woods, ebony, and ivory, and 
images of saints which were the delight pf children. 
They would flatten their noses almost beyond surgical 
remedy, gazing in at the gold-spangled blue robes of 
Virgins, the scarlet mantle of Saint Martin before the 
division to the beggar, the unadorned loveliness of Saint 
Barbe and the Infant Samuel, the wings in glazed por- 
celain and enamel of cherubim which seemed to fly at 
the end of fine wire — in short, it was a religious gallery 
for the youth of Toulon. 

It was early, but the patroness, Madame Roure, was 
already at her accustomed place, and the clerk and artist- 
designer, all in one, was at his desk too. 

Madame kept the books, and not an ounce of plaster, 
not a yard of bullion lace, not a silver spangle came in 
or went forth without being entered or checked by her 
stubby quill pen. 

The clerk was young and Madame was not old, so 
that the precautionary proverb seemed unheeded here : 
“ Where a young wife is, an old clerk.” But Madame 
Roure, to a young fellow educated in Parisian studios, 
as Mazan Brisebaure had been, was not as the spouse of 
Potiphar. 

Seraphine was nearer forty than thirty, yet looked the 
latter age at most, as she was slender, and had the waxen 
complexion and smooth face which defy the tooth of 
Time^ Her face was long, too, and the straight nose 
and cold blue eyes were what some term aristocratic. 
The thin lips and their pale tint were deemed fine, and 
her false teeth were not of rustic make, but executed at 


LISE TA FEE ALEE. 


IS 

Havre by a dentist “ with a diploma.” She was an aspar- 
agus plant in a rose garden, said Mazan when, some- 
times, a lady superior came with a bevy of novices to 
choose an image for a saint’s name-day. 

Madame Roure always dressed in black, and she car- 
ried the idea of gloom being inseparable from true piety 
so far as to wear jet ornaments and a mourning watch. 
She sat on the left as you entered, in the least obtrusive 
corner, in an old highbacked chair with its tapestry back 
so worn and faded that she never — though a Christian, 
she hoped — forgave the purblind cur^ of Norentin-aux- 
Sables, who had inquired if it were the embroidery of 
her youth. An aroma slightly sulphurous and a visible 
aureole of heated air surrounded her often, as at present, 
but therq was no illusion possible to emanations from 
the parts contra- celestial as she planted her black velvet 
slippered feet on a palpable footwarmer. It made her 
cough— its charcoal did — but she thought her cough 
quite in the mode of the aristocratic patrons, and it inter- 
ested people in her health. 

The clerk who filled up his time with scribbling under 
her dictation when not moulding and casting statues, 
was of an engaging mien. Under the plain black of a 
clerk, his air of haughtiness revealed that he had not 
been a simple private when in the army. Indeed, had 
the Great Napoleon not been dethroned and only ordi- 
nary fortune attended him, Mazan would have been a 
colonel by this time. 

Strange — not to say ridiculous — that the hand which 
had swung the sabre in honor should handle the pen 
and the moulding-iron ! 

He was serving for honor now, though. Not that 
Roure did not pay him pretty well commensurately with 
the rate of wages in the provinces. South where artistic 
talent sculptures on the house fronts and no man looks up, 
but that, as Mazan had been his apprentice when he was 
marched away for the army, the youth had chivalrously 
returned to give him the time of those diverted years. 
It is true, he had lingered in Paris before reporting him- 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


l6 

self, but Roure never cavilled at that : he was too glad 
to have such an assistant at a low rate. 

Mazan’s heads of saints were as good as any of Parisian 
origin — the same conventional traits but yet an inkling of 
likeness to the donors which made them novel, appro- 
priate and most remunerative. As the mediaeval painters 
flattered their customers, so Mazan treated Roure’s. 
Surely one is a little nearer the elect when he or she — 
oftenest she — sees his or her countenance smile down 
on him or her from the shoulders of the saint besought. 

The household of three was therefore proud, contented 
and thriving. 

For some time the monotonous reading of letters and 
orders with the clerk’s transcription had gone on when 
the young man, irritated by the persistent heaving and 
hawing of the mistress, kindly asked her to let him read 
the papers and copy them direct, as well as write the 
replies. 

** Oh, no, no,” objected Madame Roure, “ it is not the 
practice here — M. Roure would not like it.” 

“ He ought not to like your speaking when you have 
a cough of that calibre.” 

“ ’Sh ! ” she said, with an uneasy look around. 

She was dreadfully in apprehension of her husband, 
who sometimes crept about in list slippers and popped 
on her at the height of a worldly or personally injurious 
conversation of hers with the parish priest. 

‘‘ If I were the master,” went on Mazan, who had not 
been of a timid nature before he was a boy trooper and 
was still less so now, “ I should send you into the 
country for a couple of months. Along the coast there 
are ever so many nice spots. The place where I came 
from, called Les Clastres — that’s the local dialect for the 
Cloisters, because there was a nunnery there in the old 
times — that’s religious enough to tempt you — well, you’d 
be jolly — I mean, tranquil there. Plenty of sea breeze 
and genuine goat’s milk, to say nothing of fish for 
breakfast caught within two hours before.” 

Madame Roure shook her head like a martyr refusing 


LISE TAVERNIER, 

a respite under torture and between two hacking coughs, 
resumed croakingly : 

“ Have you got ‘ Whilst acknowledging your favor of 
the 19th instant ’ ? ” 

When the street door opened slowly and waveringly 
and, in the same slow and dubious manner a person pre- 
sented himself who certainly had need of a saint who 
would bless him more liberally than his own had done. 

He looked like an Italian sailor and his accent bore 
that double pres'umption out. He was in sadly dilapi- 
dated garments, as if he had been keel-hauled under a 
long vessel. He had a sneaking softness and a pious 
roll of the eyes which did not win upon the clerk and 
the mistress, who — heaven knows! saw overmuch of that 
kind of aspect and demeanor. This personage came in 
along the counter with many cringes but in an awkward 
way, wishing the gentleman, the lady and the company — 
in a polite reference to the saints in stucco — a hearty 
good-day. 

The clerk raising his head, recognized the intruder 
with no welcoming glance, and said : 

“ What, you here again ? ” 

With a sort of stammer which seemed to have origi- 
nated from shyness — the shyness of the rogue who sees 
a gendarme in every pollarded willow — the man said : 

“ C-c-can I see M. Roure, please ? ” 

Not at home,^’ growled Mazan, testily. 

“ Diavolo f ” ejaculated the seaman with an energy 
which made Madame Roure cough apologetically on the 
profaner’s behalf. 

“ What do you seek, my friend ? ” said she, patroniz- 
ingly. “ Is there anything I can do for you ? 

The Italian was staring with curiosity around him and 
responded, without looking at her, in the negative. 

Oh, no, I only w-w-want to know if he was in.” 

Mazen laid down his pen and rose menacingly. 

Don’t I tell you he is not here I ” 

As he came round the counter, the sailor retreated to 
the door, casting the while long, lingering, covetous 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


leers on the gilding and the metal plate of the church 
services. In spite of Mazan’s approach he waited to 
execute a prolonged bow. 

“ A very good morning, Monsieur, Madame and the 
Company ! ” he said, whilst the athletic clerk incon- 
tinently accelerated his exit and shut the door in his 
face. 

“ This is pretty,” said the latter, as, returning, he stop- 
ped before the lady’s desk. 

“ I may say it is alarming, Madame Roure. That’s 
the second such tramper as has called during the hour. 
They are early worms on the pick up of innocent birds. 
And the other was even a worse-looking tatterdemal- 
ion, for he wore a red cap which exhaled Goddess of 
Liberty adjurations and his big Punch’s nose augured ill 
for his moral proclivities. Now, what can such rogues 
and vagabonds have to do with master ? ” 

The woman smiled blandly and complacently ex- 
plained : 

” Monsieur is a member of the Charitable Committee, 
why do you wonder ? ” 

” Do you vmean to say they are brother members ? ” 
inquired Mazan, sarcastically. 

He had a bad defect of quizzing the worthy dame. 

Why, no, of course ! but they are poor fellows who 
come to beseech alms. M. Roure has so great a repu- 
tation for charity throughout the town ! ” 

“ So he may, rather than me. If I wanted to tender 
such ragamuffins any charity I should do it by the inter- 
vention of a gendarme, and caution him to hand the loaf 
over on the point of his sword. The taller one of the 
brace — I can’t tell you how he goes against my grain ! 
the rascally red nose he has ! I think I can see it blaze 
without.” 

But his objurgations against the early callers were 
cut short by his hearing the heavy yet soft step of his 
employer. He regained his stool in three strides and a 
turn and was midway in a letter when the ecclesiasti- 
cal warehouseman entered from the living apartments. 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


19 


M. Roure was stout and unctuous , he carried his 
large head on one side as if a preponderance of brain 
had shifted like iron in a cargo. He was arrogant and 
bullying, but association with the Church, an organiza- 
tion which resented, like the sensitive plant, roughness 
to the least of its members, had forced him to curb his 
temper. Cowardly as he was covetous, under his sham 
good humor and affected humility was the timidity of 
a widow’s son. This weakness was betrayed in the limp- 
ness of his hand in shaking, his fleeting glance, and the 
urbanity of his speech when he dared not be a tyrant. 
He was over fifty and the stumps of hair left after care- 
fully clean shaving, were grey. 

He was reading the Toulonnais when he came in, and 
he pretended still to read it, but he gave his wife and his 
artist-clerk each a surreptitious and searching glance. 

“ One gross stars, silk and gold,” dictated Madame 
Roure, her cough banished by the entrance of Diony- 
sius. 

‘fThat will do! they rest by and by,” interrupted 
Roure.” 

He leaned on the desk and went on for his wife’s ear: 

“ Seraphine, you know that I have sometimes men- 
tioned a nephew of mine — ” 

Maximin ? ” 

“ Yes, who went into the naval service? ” 

Oh, yes, I think I remember. Has anything hap- 
pened to him ? ” 

No. He is dead.” 

“ Goodness gracious !” 

It appears that a ship, the packet between Italy and 
the Islands and Marseilles, called the Gates of Heaven — 
Janna Coeli — God save the mark ! has been missing these 
five months. The Toulonnais says that the underwriters 
entertain no doubt of the loss, though details will, per- 
haps, always be lacking. It publishes a list of all on 
board and here is his— Maximin Roure’s — at full length, 
as assistant steersman. What was he doing on a mer- 
chantman? I do not know. Poor Max!” he sighed 


20 


LISE TAVERNIER. 

deeply. Verily, he led the life of a blackguard, but the 
divine mercy is infinite. Let us hope that he felt at his 
last moments one minute of sincere contrition for his 
sins and the non-repayment of certain monies which he 
borrowed from tkne to time of his uncle.” 

“ My good Roure ! ” 

“Tut, tut! let us not drag that up! Sometimes the 
Lord is content with salvation between the saddle — I 
should say, the ship and the sea. “ So mote it be ! ” 
then, abruptly changing his tone and dropping his eyes, 
he said, sharply : 

“ Any letters ? ” 

Madame Roure was in a flurry at this fatal intelligence. 
She answered in the negative, but hastened to correct her 
statement as she saw her husband take up two missives 
by that morning’s post. 

“ I see, I see ! no doubt it is a dreadful blow, but we 
must respect the decrees of Providence. Come to look 
at it from all sides, the scamp had a handsome departure, 
a good deal better for him than execution at the yard- 
arm or death in a hospital bed. We will pay for a mass 
to be said for his repose, and, if you do not mind, we will 
never speak of him any more — -no more, mark ye ! ” 

Madame Roure bowed her head submissively. 

“ By Jupiter! ” muttered Mazan, as the church furnisher 
read the letters, standing before the cash-till, “ that 
fellow’s quickly put out of sight ! ” 

“ Halloa ! ” ejaculated Roure, frowning over one letter, 
“ at me again ! I might have known what he wanted 
before reading the scrawl ! more money ! they take nte 
for a lucky bag and, though they draw a prize the first 
dip, they only the more eagerly dive again ! No, no, 
M. I’Abb^ ! I have renewed your note three times — quite 
enough.” 

“ Come, come, my dear,” Madame Roure ventured 
to lift up her meek voice, “ the Abbe Salignon has such 
a poor parish, and he is so charitable ! ” 

“ Yes, my love ! yes, my angel ! ” returned Roure with 
white heat under his honied tone, “the Abb^ is a most 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


21 


liberal dispenser of good things — everybody knows that — 
but, look you ! I do not like my cashbox to be the poor- 
box of the parish. Just write to the Abbd Salignon 
that we are in terrible pecuniary stress at present, and 
dues are so slow a- coming in that, seriously, I am think - 
ing of going into liquidation, as then some official, with- 
out my tender heart, would harry the delinquents. 
Anyway, I am not going to renew the note.” 

“ Very well, sir. ‘ Liquidation ’ — ‘ harry the delin- 
quent ’ — ” said Mazan, making notes on a slip of paper. 

'' But I thought,” began the dame, when a scathing 
•glance spiked her gun, metaphorically. 

“ What do you please to observe ? ” challenged the 
terrible domestic autocrat. 

“ N — nothing,” faltered she. 

“ They are going too, too far,” went on he, as he broke 
the seal of the second epistle. I am just the lamb to 
be the helping hand of parish priests throughout the 
country, let my goodly merchandise go out on long 
time, even advance round sums to the messengers whose 
feet are heard on the hills, but let these shepherds bring 
me to the dust — no indeed.” 

Having opened the sheet of writing, he started. It 
was a very different paper from the preceding. It was 
in a feminine handwriting and announced the intention 
of the writer to call on him at noon of the following day 
for conference on a most important matter. 

‘‘ Lise Tavernier — its so signed,” remarked Roure, 
aloud. “And written from a place called the — the 
Clastres. “Do you know any such a place, Mazan? 
you’re a rover and a rambler ! ” 

“ I know the place and the person,” was the reply. “ I 
was even speaking^nof the place as a good one to send 
mistress to for a month to cure her of her cold.” 


22 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


CHAPTER III. 

LISE TAVERNIER. 

This, then, according to Mazan, was the story of Lise 
Tavernier. 

One day, when Lise was at her twelfth year, her 
brothers bade her come with them and they left her in 
the Ursuline Convent at her cla&tres. She obeyed, not 
knowing anything to impel rebellion at that age. For a, 
child like her, a nunnery was a compound of a sweet 
chime of bells under the trees, a lovely chapel in which 
the girls were marched every Sunday, golden flowers, 
burning perfumes, gay banners, stained glass, with female 
choirs softly warbling on the other side of bars. Lise 
had darted in as a swallow does into a window suddenly 
opened at dawn. Knowing nothing of worldly life, she 
fancied she would have no cause to regret the step. 

Indeed, she regretted nothing of her life there, although 
she had often wept bitterly. 

When, on summer eves, the sea breeze brought the 
odor of the lime groves and the sound of tamborines 
accompanying the national dance, the Farandole, and 
of children’s laughter, a shudder would run over the 
young nun, as if an eagle had struck with his wing at 
her heart, and she would bewail her fate without know- 
ing why. She was not the only one, and, though those 
grim walls could not speak, complaints reached the pro- 
fane ears without. Such complaints from monastic 
edifices had their part in bringing about the Great French 
Revolution. 

When it broke out in the South, not all the Marseillais, 
as the revolutionists were called, marched singing to 
Paris. A band of them swept the coast, liberating 
prisoners and punishing jailers. 

Lise had then been in the nun’s dress five years, and she 
would have worn it all her life and been faithful to the 
vows she had made, but, one night, the convent gates 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


23 


were smashed in with a dreadful din which boomed'from 
one end of the vast pile to the other. A host of armed 
men ran about, halloaing to the sisters : 

“ Up, women ! out you go ! you are free ! ’’ 

Lise, like the most, would not accept liberty. 

“We vowed an oath to heaven,” they remonstrated. 
“ Heaven alone can cancel the vow ! ” 

Rather than go free they insulted the liberators, and 
taunted them into making martyrs of them. 

Lise was only seventeen, and strong in her was the 
desire to live and see something of what was beyond the 
bounds. She accepted the boon and sallied forth. The 
Roures and Fulcrans said later that all that ensued had 
been brought on by herself. And yet she did nothing 
but return to her village outside the convent. Scorn 
and rebuke awaited her. No one took her hand — no 
one embraced her. Her family drove her away and her 
brothers said they knew her not. She was so good- 
looking, though pale, that the charitably disposed were 
afraid to help her lest the prudes and Puritans, who rule 
the province, made that kindness a weapon against them. 

Finally, hunted from everywhere, despised and reviled 
by all, she made a dwelling in the ruins of her old con- 
vent, which the revolutionists had demolished almost 
completely, and there she lived, like an anchorite. When 
she rode on her mule the children threw pebbles at her, 
or, if too feeble to do that, shouted “The Sister! the 
Sister ! ” to enrage her. These children grew up with 
the same hatred of her as their parents had showed years 
before. It was bequeathed in families. Ashamed of 
having stolen her inheritance, her brothers allowed her 
the wherewithal to provide bread, but when they died, 
their children gave not a penny. 

“ But how can she live now ?” inquired Roure, always 
on the alert for a secret of economy. 

“ Oh, they say she has found a treasure — ” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“A treasure— 'the treasure of the Ursulines, buried 


24 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


under the ruins. Who but she would so well know of 
its existence and its whereabouts ? ” 

Very true! ” muttered the church furnisher. The 
best county families were represented among the sisters.’* 

“ The story goes that she was put back there to guard 
the wealth, like the fabulous animal, you know— the 
Dragon ? ” 

“The Dragon of Asperities !" said Roure, proud 
of the opportunity to display his classical lore before his 
helpmate. 

“ What an idiot!” thought the clerk, but he went on 
calmly. “ A great place for rumor and scandalizing — the 
coast is. I never believed these tales. After the destruc- 
tion, the convent was thorougly ransacked, from top to 
bottom, for money makes the coward go ! Since, the 
treasure-seekers have had a try at it, though the clastres 
is haunted.” 

“Haunted!” repeated the hearers, Madame Roure 
crossing herself. 

“ Well, they say that the Ursulines come back to earth 
after dark and walk about, singing hymns and carrying 
corpse-candles ! ” 

“ Corpse-candles,” repeated the same, aghast. ** Oh, 
our good Mother ! ” eyeing a Madonna, appealingly, in a 
glass case against the wall before her. 

“ Ay, Madame, with veritable corpse-candles, burning 
blue and green flames,” went on the wag, enjoying the 
sensation he made. “ So I’ll be bound that there is no 
more hunting about in that direction. Nobody but a 
fearless soul like Lise Tavernier would dare to live close 
beside them.” 

Roure was reflecting on what he had seen among 
brothers of his trade and the Jew dealers in curiosities. 
The appurtenances of sacerdotal show which were sold 
as “ antiquities ” by even religious merchants might come 
from dismantled ecclesiastical houses. 

“And this wicked renegade talks of coming here,” 
exclaimed Madame Roure with unusual animation. “ I 
hope you will not allow it for one moment.” 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


25 


Her husband smiled to hide vexation. 

“ Dear me ! how talkative our little mamma is this 
morning ! ” he sneered, “ I wonder you can do it when 
you cough so much ! Do me a favor, my pet ! hand the 
answering of this letter over to Mazan, who is quite able 
to do it properly, and go straight up to your dbsy room.” 

“ But — ” began the culprit, whose own cosy room was 
an odd one under the gable, in which the most cheerful 
ornament was a miniature “ Stations of the Cross ” like 
a panorama three-quarters round the apartment. 

“ Straight ! ” growled the church furnisher in a terrify- 
ing voice. 

“Yes, my dear!” said the poor woman, rising so 
hurrsedly as to make her pen roll down her desk and 
leave a blot of ink at every leap. 

She reeled over to a flight of stairs in one corner and 
climbed out of sight. 

There was a silence of some duration after this domes- 
tic episode, not particularly novel to the clerk, who went 
on writing while his principal brooded at his wife’s desk. 

This silence was broken by the jingle of a silvery bell, 
and a mule, harnessed and decorated in the fashion of 
La Provence, was stopped before the church furnisher’s. 

Lise Tavernier was the rider, but she was accompanied 
by Cardeline. The latter took the mule’s bridle to hold 
it, which, out of pure devilty on its part, was no sinecure 
office. The persons within the store could hear her 
fresh voice vainly entreating “ Brunette ” to be quiet. 
To judge by the girl’s appearance the edge of her grief 
and despair had been dulled, to say the least. 

Lise entered with a basket upon her arm, her hood 
about her face and her eyes downcast. A bunch of keys, 
of the formidable size beloved by our grandmothers as 
housewives, dangled from a leather girdle. 

Roure had glided quickly forward and she had only to 
give him one searching glance to know who he was. 

“ I wish to speak in private with you, M. Roure,” 
began the visitress. 

Mazan, without an expressed hint, had finished his 


26 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


reply and sauntered to the doorway, out of which he 
leaned to look hard at the girl by the mule. If he had 
looked at her hard in the first place, he soon looked at 
her tenderly and, moreover, with joyful recognition. 

By stepping to one side of the store with the proprie- 
tor, the caller had thus all desirable privacy [for the 
interview. 

Being reassured by a look around that she might pro- 
ceed, Lise drew from under her long cloak some articles 
of noticeable weight for their size, and, unwrapping them 
from a cloth, stood on the counter a pair of church 
drinking vessels, small but exquisitely wrought of so 
pure a gold that the utensils covered with that metal in 
the cases behind, seemed tarnished. Some parts were 
open work and as finely meshed as lace. The church 
furnisher, seemed dazed for a moment, and muttered, 
‘^Very pretty!” in an ecstasy. He kept his eyes 
fastened on them as Lise, in an undertone, related that a 
friend of hers had given refuge to the almoner of her 
own convent till her death. The almoner had left a 
trunk, which was mislaid for years. On being opened 
the other day, several valuable objects of the nature of 
these drinking cups had been found. In short, Mdlle. 
Lise’s friend wished to dispose of them. 

Roure did not higgle as usual, for he scented a good 
speculation in futurity, if these were fair specimens of a 
hoard. Any bishop or chapter would gladly and hand- 
somely pay his price for these masterpieces. But the 
dealer’s offer was a little above that she knew where else 
to obtain that she would not consummate the bargain. 

“ It is my last price,” said Roure. “ Pray consult your 
friend overnight. I shall expect your kind answer to- 
morrow.” 

Upon this, Lise wrapped up the precious articles and 
prepared to go. 

” Don’t forget, Madamoiselle,” Roure hastened to say, 
“ to mention to your friend that while one cannot be 
generous in bidding for an odd item in a set, it would 
be a very different matter if she has a whole service, for 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


27 


example, or articles of the same make and character. 
Then there would be a gain all round in selling the lot 
entire. You know I can buy with ready money to a 
large extent.” 

Yes, Mdlle. Tavernier was aware of that fact. 

She replied, however, carefully, with the tip of her 
lips as the popular saying goes, that she understood and 
would inform the third party. 

Upon this he escorted her ceremoniously and with 
several bows to the door. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE YOUNG HEARTS. 

In the meantime the clerk had uttered the name of 
Cardeline ” in a cautious way, but it had reached the 
girl’s ears and she turned her head quickly. 

** Mazan ! ” she uttered, with a frank smile of joy. 
What a meeting ! what are you doing here ? I thought 
you were in the Capitol ? are you employed here now ?” 

“ Yes,” said the clerk, to answer as many lines in the 
questioning as possible with a monosyllable. “ I am 
what they call the book-keeper.” 

** I did hear that the cur6 had forgiven your coming 
back out of the army a little too much of a dragoon, 
and had been your reference to get a good place ; but I 
had my own troubles and I must confess that I did not 
ask after you.” 

Yes — ^you must have had trouble, my poor little 
friend. Your father obliged to go away and nobody 
knows what became of him.” 

Nobody knows,” echoed Cardeline, with a sad and 
mysterious intonation to which her hearer had not the 

Tell me how you come to be here with this notori- 
ous woman.” 

Well;” responded the girl, resting a bent arm on the 


28 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


mule’s saddle, that beast having become quiet in the 
profundity of its study of the young man’s qualities, 
“ when my mother died everything in the house was 
sold so that my father, on his return from a cruise after 
fish, found me alone in the empty cottage. Perhaps that 
is what decided him to commit some act which brought 
him under the ban of the police. Anyhow, they came 
to take him away, and, out of spite because he eluded 
them, they locked me out of our poor little cabin. 
There I was on the wayside without resources and too 
weak to do field work, while unskilled in anything else. 
My Uncle Fulcran ought to have housed me and suc- 
cored me, everybody said, but he is so avaricious that 
the idea of providing for another mouth made him turn 
as green as an old penny. I fell asleep on the sand, and 
I would have been drowned only for Mdlle. Lise. She 
put Brunette’s bridle in my hands and drew me out of 
the quicksands. Lise is something of a distant cousin 
to my father, so that she determined to keep me with her. 
Uncle Fulcran gladly renounced any claim upon me, 
and so I am in the dwelling of this notorious woman.” 

“ I take back the word, Cardeline ! Upon my honor 
I always believed her capable of good.” 

So she is,” exclaimed the girl. 'Tf there is any evil 
about our house, it’s in this spiteful beast. Quiet as it 
can be at times, it’s abominable when it takes it in its 
head.” 

At that moment the mule was regarding the world 
with the eye of a philosopher who saw things only in 
the abstract. 

“ I am afraid you are rather dull out there, Cardeline, 
not to say unhappy.” 

It’s a little that way,” assented the girl, pensively. 

‘‘ And yet it is not six months since you danced with 
a good heart to the violin of your father’s playing at the 
Pilgrimage to Cassis. Do you remember ? ” 

Remember ! indeed, she remembered that last evening 
she had passed in such society as the rustics know. 
The town busy with the devout and the merrymaking, 


USE TAVERNIER. 


29 


the rows of booths, the shows, the open-air eating- 
houses where sausages simmered and pancakes were 
tossed, the crack of the pistols in the shooting gallery 
and the awe with which she had scanned the duelling 
pistol with which a great dame of Paris had been sui- 
cided, by her wicked spouse (sic / on the handbill).” If 
either of the young pair had forgotten that evening, it 
would not be the girl. 

“ I remember,” she sighed. 

Mazan held up his hand on a finger of which glit- 
tered a gilt- and- glass ring, such as the peddlers vend at 
country fairs. She had given it him as a “ favor ” on 
that day, and he had worn it ever since. 

“ So you still like me ? ” she ventured. 

Love ! and love greater than ever, Ninette ! ” 

Cardelinette clapped her hands. 

“ How glad I am ! be still, you brute ! ” she added in 
quite another tone to Brunette, who had tossed her head 
at the sound. “ But, then, if you still cared for me, how 
came you to hold back so long from seeking news ? ” 
You forget,” said the young man. “ Your disappear- 
ance followed that of your father. Really I concluded 
that you had gone to meet him at some appointed place. 
I thought you happy in a pretty nest in Italy or on the 
Island of Corsica. Besides, I have no spare time here; 
when I am not writing, I am moulding in plaster, carving, 
gilding, painting, what not? to say nothing of going to 
all the religious services which the master insists upon. 
It befits his trade, you see.” 

“ Well, you might have written me a line or two — 
being a learned man.” 

“ My dear, all the learning in the world will not make 
a letter sure to reach a person whose address is not 
known. That is funny ! ” 

“ I am not going to laugh at it, for I have pretty well 
forgotten how to laugh in that dreary den between Lise 
and this mule. Brunette ! bite me, would you?” — the 
mule had only reached round to nibble at her sleeve 
playfully. ” I shall have to thump you ! ” 


30 


USE TAVERNIER. 


“ Don’t she treat you well ? ” 

Yes, but she weeps over me when she is not caress- 
ing mie ! I cannot make her out.” 

Pretending to show her something in the window 
Mazan artfully covered from those inside the shop 
how he took Cardeline’s hand. 

You do love me ? ” he queried. 

She mutely assented, and her hand became hot and 
tremulous in his. 

“ Hear me vow to save up and put some money to- 
gether. I am making a little outside by painting por- 
traits — of the Mayor of Nice’s big Spanish boarhound, 
for one ! and v/hen we have enough, we’ll get married. 
Is that a settled thing ? ” 

Cardeline stared at this forced plight. 

“ Meanwhile, be of good cheer. Do not pine or fret. 
I’ll come over and see you the first chance. In any 
event. I’ll write you once a week.” 

“ But the postman will not come out to the ruins.” 

“ But you can call at your Uncle Fulcran’s — I will 
direct it there. Write me, if you like, but to the post- 
office, as the master is more strict about love-letters 
than a bishop. And if he suspected that I — Look out ! 
here they come ! ” 

Roure, conducting Mdlle. Tavernier, was too much 
engrossed with her to notice the young couple starting 
guiltily apart. Besides, Brunette, with a kick in the 
direction of the church furnisher, caused his attention to 
be diverted that way. He abstained from assisting Lise 
to mount, in which she was helped by Mazan and Car- 
deline, glad to have that excuse to be close together 
again. 

Roure took off his skull-cap to the disfrocked nun as 
she ambled off, accompanied by Cardeline, and watched 
them well down the road towards the Coast-gate. 

“ Mazan,” he called out, as he saw that his clerk was 
still at the shop door. “ I want you to go to the Hotel 
Petit St. Jean to have a good nag and a cabriolet ready 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


31 


for me to-morrow morning. No driver, for I can myself 
manage such fiery Bucephaluses as Bedeau keeps. ’’ 

“Very well, cab, horse, no driver — what time to- 
morrow ? ” 

“ How long will it take to get to Les Clastres ? 
Over an hour ? ” 

“ An hour and a half, when the Sorgue is not full and 
is fordable. But at the least flood, it’s a long way round 
over the bridge.” 

“ Anyhow, let the carriage be ready at eight o’clock.” 

Mazan smiled to himself at a hopeful thought. 

“ I say, master — if you are going to the Cloisters, I 
might drive you.” 

Roure eyed him narrowly, but, to all appearance, it 
was pure willingness to serve which prompted the offer. 

“Nay, na}^, my lad,” he rejoined, not unkindly, “ you 
are too much wanted in the store. My poor wife is so 
ailing,” he added with a covert smile. “ The doctor 
says she must not be worried, dr it will be her death. 
Run along ! ” 

“ Oh, I ought to start the boiler — we want water for the 
moulds — I am going to cast the last three of the Apos- 
tles and the head of Judas to-day.” 

“ Hang Judas ! Get along ! I’ll light the fire myself 
Oh, stop a moment. I noticed that you were chatting 
with Mdlle. Tavernier’s servant here ! There’s no harm 
in a judicious conversation during which valuable infor- 
mation is extracted, but fie on frivolity ! Let others bab- 
ble, boy ! I have often told you, but cannot too many 
times repeat, that Discretion and Reserve are the car- 
dinal virtues of business. You should preserve all that 
you hear about the shop, outside and in, about the cus- 
tomers, and about the affairs, like a written confession 
between linen and buff! ” he looked at the young man, 
who did not flinch, in the eyes. “ That’s understood, is 
it not ? Away you go.” 

Folding his hands behind him, Roure returned into 
his house. 

Decidedly the day was beginning, nicely. The com- 


32 


USE TAVERNIER. 


ing of Lise Tavernier, with her specimens of the treas* 
ure of the Ursuline Sisters buried in the ruins of the 
Cloisters, promised golden fruit. Having been a gar- 
dener out that way in his early days, he knew something 
of how wealthy that corporation was reckoned to be. 
Then there was the good news of the loss of his nephev/ 
Maximin on the Janna Coeli. Roure had always been 
afraid that this scapegrace would turn up some day with 
his barelhced manners. 

He had not seen him except when he came to borrow 
money, since uncle and nephew were in Numer Prison 
together. The Reactionists had locked them up there 
on suspicion of carrying water on both shoulders. In 
fact, Roure was of any political party that paid him, and 
his nephew of no party at all since warfare not at all 
suited his taste and purse. 

Maximin had been “ induced ” to volunteer into the 
navy and his uncle had fondly expected he would fall a 
victim to discipline ; naval regulations usually fail to 
cure such gipsies of civilization and they are discharged 
— at the mouth of a gun, as Roure had hinted. 

The shopkeeper sat at his cash desk and let his 
thoughts wander in the nunnery ruins, following a golden 
phantom — ^the spectral goat, which is Old Nick’s favorite 
animal — fabled in the South to guard buried hoards. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE RETURN OF THE SCAPEGRACE. 

A SHADOW darkened the floor between the counters. 
Ah, is it all settled, Mazan ? ” he cried, without look- 
ing up. 

Another M., uncle ! ” said a low voice. 

A man had sidled in quickly, like one who wished to 
eclipse himself from an undesirable viewer in the street. 
Sooth to say, Toulon from being a great convict station, 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


33 

usually garrisoned its streets with spies, informers and 
police in plain clothes. 

Maximin !” 

The identical, uncle ! ” 

Nephew Max. was a man of less than thirty who al- 
ready had a wrinkled brow; but perhaps passion had 
more to do with creasing it than age. With a round, 
brown face and jet black hair and a moustache, rarely 
worn at that period save in the army in certain corps, he 
inspired confidence at the first from a jaunty dare-devil- 
try which always pleases in the young. But his eyes 
were tiger-green and often glowed phosphorescently un- 
der the busy brows, meeting as Cain’s are traditionally 
asserted to have done. The curl of his lip was sarcastic, 
but there was cunning expressed in it as well as fero- 
city. 

His costume was a mixture of land and sea dress, 
which suggested the freebooter and the brigand; but 
Toulon, as a seaport, had seen more startling and fan- 
tastic garbs. He wore buff leather boots, pulled up 
above the knee like a Corsican marsh- dweller who 
dreads snakebites and bayonet grass ; his breeches were 
full and scientifically rumpled like a cuirassier’s boot ; he 
had a woolen shirt, such as fisher’s wear, under a velvet- 
een short-skirted coat, marked where the shot-belt and 
powder-horn cord crossed when a gamekeeper owned it. 
As a seaman carried a knife at his side, he had a 
flat-bladed dagger with a steel hilt cut and carved so 
that it was worth a gem. On his curly head was an 
English sailor’s black, glazed, hard, round-rimmed hat 
of cylindrical shape, but its rigid outline had' offended 
the Southerner and he added a gold and scarlet cord 
which bound a tuft of cock’s feathers to its front. 

Altogether, a figure out of place amongst saints and 
angels. 

“ How’s aunty ? ” he went on. “ Not off the hooks 
yet?” 

“You, you ! gasped the other. 

“ Easy, easy ! I was sure that my appearance would 


34 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


give you a fit of convulsions. But it’s not my fault. I 
sent friends to break it, but they could not get to see 
you.” 

“ I thought your ship — ” 

Max had caught right of the newspaper. He nodded. 

“ Yes, I read it this morning myself. A vagrant on 
the wayside had a copy wrapped round his loaf and 
cheese.” 

“ Isn’t the shipwreck true ? ” 

“ Wreck of the ship, yes ! wreck of the man 
pecuniarily, yes ! physically not a bit of it ! I’ll explain 
the mystery to you.” 

He went and shut the door, not without a wary glance 
up and down the street, and returned, drawing a chair 
up to his uncle’s desk, on which he sat jockeywise with 
the back before him. 

You know the navy pressed me. To begin with, it 
amused me. But after I had gone round the world 
several times, now this way, then, that, I took a hatred 
to the man-o’-wars’-man’s life. Naturally the life revolted 
and the officers made it hot for me. I jumped but of the 
frying-pan into the merchant service. It was the fire, for 
I spent much of my tim.e in the bilboes. I was in them, 
with two of my mates, on Janna Coeli, brooding over 
a plan of escape before they landed us at Toulon, when 
a fourth companion in captivity was shoved into our 
blackhole, and secured to the bit of spar to which we 
were all secured by rings. 

This poor fellow had not done anything. Singular 
how many innocent men are in the stocks. I should not 
be surprised if you, uncle, were so lodged some day ! 
Well, the new-comer had come off from shore in a small 
boat. Our skipper chose to think he was a refugee from 
justice and lodged him cheek by jowl with yours duti- 
fully. We were four heads to plot an escape, then, and 
we falsified the proverb about too many ceoks and the 
broth. 

“ The broth ! or, rather, the mourning soup — that was 
the idea. Our prison was a store-room, and the cook 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


35 


came down daily to fill his basket with comestibles and 
condiments. Strange thing ! I had a stock of an African 
weed — a specific for toothache. A little sent me to 
sleep once when the racking pain in my left grinder had 
allowed no rest in forty hours. I put the stuff in a 
bag of lentils — the cook scooped it out and gave an infu- 
sion to the crew and passengers. You see the situation 
from here ! The ship yawing and being taken aback 
appraised me that all had their dose. We four had not 
souped.” We broke our irons, and searched our prize. 
Every sou^ napping 1 One of us went into the spirit 
room and drowned his wits in rum. We three — the new 
prisoner included, loaded up with booty and borrowed 
the captain’s cutter. Whilst they were getting it into 
the water, I went into the hold with the carpenter’s 
augur. I fancied the captain had hidden a watch in the 
timbers and I bored for it. My mates calkd me up on 
deck. Besides, the water gushed in at the holes. It 
was time to go. 

In short, uncle, since your tender hearts cannot bear 
the details, the Jamta Coeli sank, and I escaped.” 

We ’ escaped, you mean. You said there were three 
in the boat.” 

“ We started three, but I alone reached land, with the 
booty. These boats are so cranky, which, in shore-going 
lingo, means difficult to keep afloat in.” 

“ Wholesale murderer, you destroyed even your com- 
panions ! ” gasped Roure, leaning back in his tilted chair, 
till the wall stopped him. 

“ Tut, tut ! fortune of the navigator — as fatal as fortune 
of war. Enough that I resumed my wandering, but on 
land this time. At Marseilles I fell in with a brace of 
old comrades, one of whom, in some yarn, chanced to 
mention the fine shop of a certain Jean-Baptist Roure in 
the Priest’s street, Toulon. A furnisher of holy build- 
ings ! just what you would become, uncle! The name 
made my ear tingle and I said : What a lucky thing if 
that should be my kind uncle ! And it is lucky it is 
so.” 


36 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


With a hissing voice through gritting teeth, the other 
said : “ Yes, it is I — what do you want, murderer ? 

“ Not to murder you, monkey ! Come, come, that 
would be folly on my part. But, you are not receiving 
me seemly — a nephew not seen for ages. Has your 
new trade upset your character ? Ten years ago, you 
were a better sort, when, over our smuggled goods, we 
carried a veneer of religious books.” 

“ Have done !” said the elder rogue. “ I know what 
you are aiming at. You want money.” 

Would you prefer me to ask and accept the post of 
your cashier, uncle ? ” 

“ Law forbid ! when an honest man has had as hard 
an early life as mine, he must expect anything evil. I 
really thought this would come one day or another — 
but I am awaiting my clerk — or your aunt may come 
down ” 

** Ah ! a dose of the Janna Coeli elixir would deepen 
her repose,” said Maximin in a tone so ingeniously set 
between jest and earnest that Roure dared not take it 
either way. 

We can not arrange anything here. I will see you 
to-morrow. Where do you lodge ? ” 

“ Not next door to the jail, Toulon, you may wager. 
No, too many gendarmes on the bridge of the city. I 
preferred the country, and I pitched upon the very model 
of a bandit’s haunt — a broken down religious building 
called the Cloisters.” 

The Cloisters ! ” repeated Roure in surprise. 

‘‘ Do you know it ? ” 

I — I have seen it, at a distance,” was the reply. 

“ Oh, it’s worth a close inspection. A little out of 
repair, but plenty of elbowroom and no police ! You can 
walk right in without a pompous porter asking your 
business, and go straight on to the end courtyard where 
there was a chapel. There, whistle two blasts, as in the 
good old-times when we went pilfering together. Do 
you still know how to whistle? ” 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


37 


He clapped a bent forefinger to his mouth to sound 
the note, but his uncle quickly caught his elbow, saying : 

‘‘Yes, yes, I remember. It is settled; I shall be there 
to-morrow morning.” 

“ Don’t fail, otherwise, I shall come here to enter as 
your cashier and bring two comrades as clerks. And 
they have nice figureheads to stand among your Saints 
Cockatrice and Thingumbob here present,” making an 
irreverent leer and bow at the images. 

” I tell you I shall be there,” repeated Roure angrily. 

“All right. To our next merry meeting ! ” 

At the doorway he turned and came back a little. 

“ By the way, you need not allude to me to your wife. 
Poor dear woman ! I do not know her — but, all the 
same, I would not have her distressed for the world.” 

Again he stopped at the door. 

“ Hark ! the church bells ! ” he said. “More masses ! 
really I cannot go out on the streets, crowded as they 
will be in this popinjay uniform.” 

“I see,” said Roure, “you want something in hand. 
Step this way — quick ! that’s my clerk’s room, and you 
can borrow his best suit. You’re of the same figure. 
Mind you return the clothes by me to-morrow.” 

“ Is there not a back way out, too, minkey ? ” 

“ Yes, you can get out of his window on the rainwater 
butt, and so into the neighbor’s garden. There’s a lane at 
the end of that.” 

“ To-morrow, the pleasure of your company again ! ” 
cried Maximin Roure, as he vanished at the back of the 
store, so swiftly that he did not hear his kinsman’s 
explosion of rage. 

But he suddenly checked the flood of execrations as 
he heard the bells more loudly. A volley of impre- 
cations would not clear his path of this fresh obstacle. 

“ I’ll go to church — that will cool my blood, and I 
shall have more room there to reflect,” he said. 

Priests’ street was lively with churchgoers, but 
Mazan was not to be seen. The church furnisher took 
a large prayer book up, gilt gorgeously, to put under his 


38 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


arm, and, opening the door of the stairs, said in an oily 
voice to his wife : 

‘‘ Pray look to the shop, my dear little woman I I am 
going to the Month of Mary T 

He had to pass the clerk’s room door, and he did not 
fail to peer in. All was in order, for Maximin had expe- 
rience in ransacking clothes presses. But he had 
executed the change, since his jacket lay on the floor. 

‘‘ Imprudent fellow,” muttered Roure, entering and 
picking it up. “ It is just like him to leave the herb that 
stupified the unfortunates of the Janna Coeli!' He 
searched the lining and found a flat packet in a secret 
pocket. “ It is this,” he continued, snifflng. It may be 
useful — at an early day, too ! ” 

Madame Roure was heard on the landing, and he 
hurried out to join the long line of church goers. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THREE OF A TRADE. 

The recluse had chosen a romantic spot for her refuge. 
The Cloisters stood on one slope of a deep and savage 
ravine. Cork oaks and umbrella pines clambered up the 
sides and shaded the creaming torrent of the Sorgue 
which tumbled down amid the greenest of green bram- 
bles and reeds. The ruins were as complete as if Attila 
had marched that way ; the arcades were beheaded, the 
statues limbed, the roofs removed and the grass and 
creeper mantled the fallen copingstones of the thick 
walls. What the demolishers had spared from satiety or 
weariness, the searchers for plunder had mauled and 
mutilated. Snakes formed knots like the head of 
Medusa in the holy water basin, and a huge lizard was 
basking at the base of the overturned chapel altar, 
around which he had curled his thorny and scaly tail. 
A nest of sea-eagles bent a limb of a solitary cypress on 
the highest point, and that cypress grew out of a 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


39 


choked-up well. Who knows if some defender of the 
convent was not entombed in that water which had been 
drank by the virgins alone. A still standing wall sep- 
arated the nunnery proper from the hermitess’ residence, 
but wall-flowers sprouted out of every chink, ousted the 
coping from its setting. At any moment loosened slabs 
fell and the echoes were^rofound and alarming even in 
broad day. At midnight, such noises would be appalling. 

Lise had constructed her house partly of stones and 
partly of oak beams ^and flobring stuff — a sacriligious 
act, the peasantry said — and it was not so despicable a 
habitation. She had added to it in course of time a 
stable for Brunette, sunk a well, cleaned a plot for vege- 
table garden and encouraged a vine. There was a fine 
large fig-tree near the low wall, which was whitewashed 
and had a pattern in it painted green. 

All was quiet about the house where Cardeline was 
tranquilly going and coming, carrying water to the mule 
which kept pricking up its ears and looking towards the 
Nunnery, or heaving great sighs over a ring, the coun- 
terpart to that worn by Mazan — only much better. 

In the Cloisters, it was different. Making a table of 
a monumental slab and sitting on drums of broken 
columns, the ill-looking man who had called at M. 
Roure’s, was playing cards with one of little less for- 
bidding aspect. By the hue of his most prominent fea- 
ture, one could safely say that here was the rubicund 
gentleman of Punch’s profile against whom the church 
furnisher’s clerk had inveighed. 

The fellow to whom we have already been introduced 
answered to the name of Palombo, {Dove) whilst his com- 
rade in the red cap bore the no less euphonious one of 
Garagous, which is that of the Turkish Punch. 

Between the two passed what they pleasantly styled 
the bottle, but itVas a demijohn. The play went on 
smoothly, as both were consummate tricksters and had 
no device unknown to one another. Nevertheless when, 
at whiles, a snatch of song came from Cardeline on the 
other side of the low wall, Garagous could not withhold 


40 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


himself from going to peep over, and, then, his associate 
tried to '' pack ” the cards. Garagous had to confine 
himself to looking and longing, for, without thoroughly 
knowing of what their young master »Maximin Roure 
was capable, they feared him. His orders were for them 
to keep in their own part of the ruins. 

If Garagous eyed the young girl with an admiring 
eye, Palombo was not insensible to Lise’s mature attrac- 
tions, but he was the silent hog and did not let his heart 
hang on his sleeve. 

“It’s your deal,” said the Italian. 

“ There’s the dark woman now ! ” 

“ Let me have a look ! ” 

He stood upon a stone so as to peep over the wall. 

“ And keep your nose in the shade — it will alarm her 
by the flash. Eh ! she’s going through that door in the 
wall.” 

“ And coming out on our side ” 

“ Stop ! she is not turning this way. No ! Halloa ! 
she’s fallen into a hole ! ” 

“ No ! there her head goes — along and downwards — 
it’s that underground passage. She’s only going to 
draw some wine. All the same, I would not keep my 
drink among buried nuns.” 

“ Bah ! perhaps it is her quarter-day and she is after 
her hidden stocking to get out the rent.” 

“ That’s an idea ! where’s my pipe-stopper ! ” 

He felt about ^nd dislodged a formidable hand spike 
from the lumps of stone. 

“ And I still have my little toothpick,” added Palombo 
modestly, as he whetted an enormous Catalan knife. 
Forward — audiamo!^^ he said, as he took a step in 
advance. 

“ Hark 1 ” 

“ I hear ! ” 

There was the sound of wheels on the road. 

“ Suppose,” said Palombo who, assuredly, was in his 
day of happy ideas, “ suppose that’s her landlord and he 
has been collecting rents all along the road.” 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


41 


A cabriolet appeared at an opening on the highway 
and the respectable form of M. Roure was therein, driv- 
ing as solemnly as if it were a hearse. 

“ He looks ‘ Money ! ’ ” observed the Italian, exchang- 
ing a meaning look with his confederate. 

They quickly drew back and running through the 
ruins, already familiar to them, by a devious path, 
emerged on the ravine crest. The vehicle had a mount 
to ascend and a road hedged with pines before it would 
come out under their feet. They scrambled down and, 
having posted themselves, one on each side of the road, 
sprang out as the carriage rolled up. 

But before they could utter the talisman’s cry: 
“ Stand and deliver ! ” and as Roure pulled up the 
horse, a fourth person added himself to the group. 

“ CaraccoN^ ejauculated Garagous in a squeak of dis- 
appointment and surprise, “the captain 1” 

“ CorpoN' joined in Palombo, stopping stupefied, both 
with their weapons brandished. 

“ Max ! ” 

“Yes, uncle,” said the young man, coolly dusting. off 
the pine needles which clung to his new black coat from 
a hurried passage through the thicket. “ Allow me to 
present to you two of my good friends, already men- 
tioned to you. This is il Signor Palombo, a simple 
native of Palermo and of peaceable manners — truly a 
dove as his name implies.” 

The Dove bowed and folded up his pinions, or, to 
be matter of fact, shut his knife with an absent air. 

“ This is his illustrious companion, who veils a noble 
Maltese title under the name of Garagous. His Punch- 
like proboscis is famous in the four quarters of the globe.” 

Garagous found his handspike rather large to go into 
his pocket, but he did his best to dissimulate it as he 
bowed to the man in the cabriolet. 

“ I fancy I have seen the gentleman’s nose before.” 

“ Yes ? — where ? ” 

“It shone through the leaves yonder, on a white 
wall, and served me as a beacon.” 


42 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


“ A beacon ! do you call on my neighbors ? ” he 
demanded, suspiciously. 

“ Well, I have business there." 

Maximi;i went up to the carriage and whispered in 
his kinsman’s ear whilst his eyes shone brightly : 

“ Hearken, uncle ! know that I have set 'my choice on 
the younger girl. I am madly in love in that quarter." 

“ Quite natural," responded Roure in the same tone. 

But," he went on in a voice for the general auditory, 
“ if I may offer advice, it is for you not to commit any 
rash act. We are sleepy people hereabouts, but yet we 
wake up now and then. This is a lucid interval, and we 
are on the alert. On my way here, I met Father Bayonet, 
the forest-keeper, who told me to mind my eye ! as there 
were suspicious gentry up by the ruins." 

“ Suspicious ! " repeated the indignant Garagous. 

“Gentry, indeed ! " said Palombo. 

“ I beg your pardon, gentlemen," Roure hastened to 
say. “ These are the forest-keeper’s own words," for 
the handspike and knife were coming to the fore again. 

“ Bosh ! " said Maximin, who saw that it was necessary 
to re-establish confidence in the shelter he had chosen, 
“ unless the naval and town police intermeddle, we are not 
going to quake, eh, Palombo ? Uncle, just ask our dove- 
like one what they do in his country to a forest-keeper, 
who bothers the boys." 

“ Why, poor man," rejoined the Palermitan, “ we four 
took hold of him quite tenderly and bound him to a 
stout oak tree, head downward, and up to the neck in an 
ant’s nest. Not the common kind of ant, you know. 
Monsieur, but the big red ones in forests — Pechero ! In 
only two days after, when we chanced that way to ask if 
he wanted a drink — his head was eaten away in gaps — 
looked like a lantern." 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Garagous shrilly, “ like a 
lantern ! Old friend Palombo, you ought to be an 
improvisatore. You’ve a poetical taste for similes." 

Roure shivered, so that the reins waved up and down 
in his hands. 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


43 


“ What do you think, uncle, of what friend Palombo 
describes?” inquired Maximin. “He’s immense for 
cold-blooded villany, ain’t he ? but, bless you ! he’s a 
pint of mother’s milk to this mass of concentrated vipers, 
the other ! ”■ 

“ They are delightful company,” said Roure, wiping 
his pallid brow, and making a sign for the road to be 
cleared. “ Let me proceed now that we are all friends. 
I have business to attend to. I shall see you immediately 
after.” 

Maximin nodded, and waved the two footpads aside 
the vehicle rolled on between them. 

“ His business is to pay money,” remarked Palombo 
regretfully. “ I heard coin jingle.” 

“ Enough ! if he leaves it in the Nunnery it will be 
ours when we make the clearance, won’t it ? ” said the 
young man. “ Let us go down the road and have a 
squint at that forest-keeper. This is too pleasant a 
shelter for bores and plagues to intrude with impunity.” 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE PRAYER-BOOK OF M. ROURE. 

Temporarily relieved, M. Roure flicked the flies off the 
high-mettled steed of the St. John the Less Hotel, and 
made the circuit of the ruins so as to reach the dwelling 
of his customer in quick time. 

Lise, hearing the sound of wheels, had come out of 
the house to receive him and she handed over the reins 
to Cardeline, who let the animal into a corner where, 
unbitted, it could browse. 

Roure looked around and expressed admiration of the 
cosy dwelling amid the desolation. 

Sweet was the silence and the shadow to those who 
did not dream by what villains they were haunted. 

“How handy that rivulet is, so near you ! ” 

“Very!” replied Lise, drily. “Rather too much so. 


44 


USE TAVERNIER. 


As the least shower, the subterraneans are flooded and 
up come the rats.” 

Her hearer's mouth twitched as a rat’s muzzle does 
when it sniffs something appetising, for he wished he 
were a rat searching those caves. 

She offered him a seat beside her on a stone slab form- 
ing a bench on the shaded side of the house. It was 
agreeable there, and he obeyed. 

“ Ah ! ” he said, rubbing his knees complacently with 
his open hands : I can understand that you enjoy life, 
here. Mademoiselle!” 

I do not enjoy it. Monsieur, such life as I lead. 
Certainly, it is less onerous since I have a young com- 
panion, though it is not in the nature of things that she 
will consent forever to this dull life. I shall remain 
because I have no other retreat — there is not a miserable 
thatched hovel for three leagues around where disgrace 
would not fall if I were harbored. But excuse me, Mon- 
sieur, suffering makes me forget myself and I must not 
weary one with my ramblings.” 

Not at all, not at all ! ” said Roure with an affecta- 
tion of sympathy. “ I assure you that I take the keen- 
est interest in your miseries. Coming along the dusty 
road, I even hit on a means of lifting you out of this 
doleful vale of tears.” 

, Lise smiled distrustfully. 

A means ? ” she repeated. 

“Yes, and a good one. Why should not a respecta- 
ble man give you his name and so make these pests show 
you respect ? ” 

“ Men are too cowardly,” said Lise. “ Look how 
they have persecuted this child because she has no 
father or mother. Nobody would dare to marry the nun 
who had flung off her cowl.” 

“ Tush, tush I who knows ?” 

^ His eyes twinkled, for he fancied he had found the 
solution of this matrimonial problem. 

“ Ah,” said Lise, “ if there were anybody to make me 
a wedded wife, to give me the family delights which 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


45 


could never enter this place and cluster round its fire- 
side, to sink under his name the opprobrious epithets 
showered upon me — -I would make him a wedding pres- 
ent richer than anybody ever saw around here ! ” 

Roure thrilled with her own animation, but he dared 
not press his acquaintance so soon on her valuable 
secret, and he impatiently waited for spontaneous reve- 
lation. But the melancholy woman suddenly became 
quiet and said : 

" Let us return to the motive of your visit, M. Roure. 
I saw my friend yesterday, and the price you offered is 
considered very little ; still, to prevent a delay in seeking 
farther, she gives consent.” 

Roure was vexed at the comment, but he slowly drew 
a bag of coin out from under the long-skirted coat he 
had donned for driving, saying : 

“ Of course, it is a low amount — I know that ! but I 
beg you to remark — or, rather, to point out to your 
friend that these are always ticklish pieces of business. 
Naturally, I am quite willing to believe the story you 
told me, of the most reasonable way by which the arti- 
cles came to hand ; but still there is some mystery about 
it all. Hence I shall have to keep these things by for 
some time and dispose of them with caution ; in short, I 
am risking my reputation and the fame of my establish- 
ment, one of the most honorable in town, though I say 
it, who, perhaps, should not say it. These are matters 
for consideration.” 

“ Quite so,” said Mdlle. Tavernier, going into the 
house to return instantly with the gold drinking vessels 
shown at Roure’s shop the day previous. 

“ Very good,” said the dealer. ” We agreed on five 
hundred francs.” 

He counted the sum out in silver, piling the crown 
pieces on the stone bench between them with a chink 
which would have made the eyes dance in the heads of 
Messieurs Palombo and Garagous if they had heard it 
and so learnt what a prize Maximin’s interposition had 
made them miss. To make the amount he had not 


46 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


emptied his bag, on the contrary, it looked quite plump 
yet and he illustratively tapped it as he said : 

Hasn’t the lady anything else ? ” 

No, that is all for the present.” 

“ I am sorry,” said M. Roure, sincerely enough, for 
we might as well have made a clean sweep of it.” 

His hearer fastened her eyes on the bag with covet- 
ousness. 

After all, there was Cardeline to be endowered soon, 
and, since there was a chance of her own marriage 
before that time, her dower, too. Ready money was pre- 
ferable to the convent service. Besides, where was the 
dishonesty of it ? There was no legal claimant to the 
treasure. She had to pay to enter the nunnery, and was 
only recouping herself. 

However, she was silent. 

“ Could you not see your friend again, to-day,” 
resumed Roure, restless on the seat and fumbling with 
the strings of the bag. “ If she does not live too far, I 
would lend you my horse and carriage. I have another 
party to see on business in the village. Try her again. 
If you like. I’ll walk back in an hour’s time to see how 
you get on.” 

“ I have my mule. Yes, I will try,” said Lise, rising. 

Roure chuckled. He was sure she would yield. He 
put away the bag and proceeded to his horse, but only 
to caress it a little hypocritically while he scrutinized 
Cardeline. 

Apparently the examination was satisfactory, for he 
walked to the road with a smile. All was so quiet at 
the back of the ruins that, had he not met the brigands, 
he would not have suspected their proximity. When he 
whistled in the peculiar tone which his nephew had 
recalled, only the latter leaped out of the natural hedge 
of laurel and vine. 

“ Have they been hanged already ? ” inquired Roure, 
forcing a jesting tone. 

” Not even caught. What do you think they have 
been chatting about, the jokers ? ” 


LISE TA VERNIER. 


47 


“ To play me the ant-hill trick, of course ? ” 

“ Not quite, but pretty near.” 

“ Nice rascals, your friends ! ” 

“You’re another! coming out of town, a married 
man, to call on two spinisters with a bag full of money, 
too.” 

“ How do you know that, you good-for-nothing?” 

“ I can see through a mill-stone with anybody.” 

“ Can you see through that ? ” questioned Roure, 
showing his large gold-edged missal. “ Do you know 
what this is ? ” 

‘‘ A mass-book, of course ! ” 

“ That’s what makes me regret that I find you in such 
sorry company.” 

“You are hard to please. Come, old fellow, do you 
mean to say we are converted ? ” 

“ Most seriously. This is what did the trick — bless 
me I operated . my conversion. It’s the penal code, my 
son I I am sure you have never read it ” 

“ I have only heard portions of it read aloud,” inter- 
polated the younger Roure unabashed. 

“ Well, I have had no other food for reflection these 
ten years. Still, as I became a church member and my 
business takes me frequently into holy places, where 
law calf would be a scandal, I had my legal manual 
bound like a prayer-book, and it goes with me to the 
services.” 

“ By my faith ! a new book, the prayers of M. Roure, 
the convert 1 let’s see it ! ” 

“ A capital work I one which tells you a lot in a few 
words. If I had only known it, chapter and verse, when 
I was young ! I used to sin, then, in ignorance, now I 
know the maze and I defy them to keep me from the 
outlet.” 

Maximin had turned the book about and looked into 
it as if doubtful that so much could be learnt in it. 

“ There I learnt what they omitted to teach you, my 
boy,” he proceeded, “ namely, to know the laws of your 
country and the way to make use of them, and to dis- 


48 


LISE- TA VERNIER. 


tinguish good from evil — what is allowed and what is 
prohibited. Sometimes only a hair’s-breadth separates 
them. In short, this volume is my conscience.” 

“ It’s a conscienced small volume,” said Maximin. 

“ Large or small, I have no other, and when it does 
not take me to task, I eat tranquilly and sleep without a 
twinge.” 

Sweet be thy slumbers, uncle ! But when it comes 
to rascality, I prefer my own sort — it is not so burden- 
some.” 

“You are wrong,” said the elder Roure, retaking his 
prayer-book. “Bear that in mind, and let us talk 
sensibly.” 

The two sat on the gnarled root of an oak tree which 
offered a kind of moss-upholstered sofa in the glade. 

“ Whither do you think the life you are at present 
leading, is going to conduct you ? I see you linked with 
two vagabonds who delight in nothing but blood and 
bruises. For a time it goes very well — you can enjoy a 
bed on a rock under the blue starry counterpane and 
gulp stolen wine. Pickings here, stealings there — things 
get along nicely ; but have a care ! one of these days 
you will play a farce in which nobody else will enjoy 
any fun, and you will be packed away for twenty years 
v/ithout well knowing how the sentence came to befall 
you. Remark, dear boy, that I am preaching sheerly 
in your own interest. I am dallying with you here — 
which is not meet to one in the position of the church 
furnisher to the Bishopric of Toulon, only because you 
are my nephew and I cherish you in affection.” 

“ What a jester you are ! ” 

“ To get rid of you, I need not make you die a-laugh- 
ing. I could denounce you to the naval office as a 
deserter or to the general authorities for scuttling the 
Janna Coeli, to say nothing of murders independent of 
the drugged cases, and you would see a half dozen 
gendarmes beating these bushes.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” replied the scapegrace. “ You are well 
aware that if you played me any such trick, I should 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


49 


play you the revenge. Within two days, all the town 
would know the early life of M. Roure, and you would 
have to put up the shutters. You are a clever rogue, but, 
uncle, to use your words, I am your genuine nephew.” 

” Being so, open your eye and look at me ! ” went on 
the philosopher. “ I have a capital speculation to pro- 
pose to you. On the other side of that wall is ” 

“ The young one or the elder ? ” interrupted Maximin, 
with an eloquent wink. 

“ So you know them ? ” 

“ I have seen them.” 

I allude to the elder.” 

“Still young — very handsome — moody and glum, 
though.” 

“ Do you know her glum story ? ” 

“ That she was once an Ursuline Sister — it’s town 
talk, or rather village gossip — thoroughly.” 

Roure plunged his hand within his driving coat and 
fished up with the tenderness it deserved one of the 
drinking vessels purchased from Mdlle. Tavernier. 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“ It’s gold, my boy, the finest gold. With such jewels 
and gems which belonged to her sisterhood, I am sure 
that she is worth — who can tell ? Millions of francs, 
very likely!” 

Max indulged in a long-drawn whistle of admiration 
and wonder which startled a blackbird, drinking in the 
old man’s worldly doctrines on an adjacent twig. 

“ It was only a bird,” said Roure, who had himself been 
startled at the whirr in the foliage, “ not your comrades. 
Yes, millions — only, she keeps them close, and it would 
take the devil to unearth them.” 

“Or one of his imps. Besides we know how to 
make the bird sing who can sing and won’t sing,” 
observed young Roure with a discomforting gesture. 

“ No, no, no violence,” said his uncle, quickly. 

“ Oh, yes, I was forgetting the lessons in your prayer- 
book 1 ” 

“That’s one point, to say nothing of the ex-nun 


LISE TAVE LAYER. 


SO 

being stubborn as her mule, and if she does not like to 
speak, even the red ants of your friend Palombo would 
not make her unlock her teeth. I have lighted upon a 
surer and safer measure of ascertaining the sister’s secret 
— marry her ! ” 

“ The mischief!'’ 

“ I mean it. The girl is in the prime. The country 
folk are such sillies that none have urged a strapping 
fellow to pay his addresses. Yet what a windfall, only 
think, for an intelligent lad! A woman never keeps any 
secrets from her husband, of course ! At all events, this 
one will not hold any back, for, just now, she actually 
told me that she would undertake to make the man who 
should give her his name, such a wedding present as 
princes do not exchange between themselves.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” 

“Yes, and I thought at once of you.” 

“ Good old nunkey ! ” rnurmured Maximin. “ Gave up 
your chance, eh ? ” 

“ Max ! I have passed the age when one induces a 
nun to break her vows.” 

“ Besides, there is Madame Roure.” 

“ Quite so, and I am afraid that Madame Roure will 
long be an obstacle. These ailing women of delicate 
health last awfully long ! You, on the contrary, have no 
incumbrance ; you are young, free, sprightly. If only 
you would be a little sensible ! ” 

“ How about yourself, uncle ? ” inquired the young 
man, surprised. 

“Me?” 

“ Yes, you ! Admitting that I pulled oft the prize, I 
do not see any gain to you in the matter, and I confess 
that it worries me a little.” 

“ Don’t be afraid,” said the old rat, smiling. am 
not forgetting Number One. I have my place in the 
pretty combination. You will understand that these 
sacred utensils will have to be melted down and run into 
ingots or somebody will be raising an outcry. It is 
what we call a ‘ clandestine liquidation,’ and as I shall 


LISE TA VERNIER. 5 1 

undertake it, we would go shares. One — two — three, 
and a go, is it ? '’ . 

Max did not answer promptly or directly. The idea 
of such a partnership was not very seductive. 

“ But how are you going to procure me the introduc- 
tion ? ” he wanted to know. 

That was Roure’s department. 

“ But, I warn you, you must shut your brace of gal- 
lows-birds out of the game — they would spoil it.” 

Max laughed and intimated with a sweep of the hand 
that he could disembarrass himself of them in a trice. 
His uncle seemed at ease on that score. 

“ To it, then,” said he. “ I will run on and prepare for 
your entrance. Yonder wall is at the back of her yard, 
you doubtless know. Go into ambush there and listen, 
and when I give the cue, the bird will be in the net. 
By the way, you must dust this suit you borrowed. I 
have had to tell my clerk I do not know what tale of 
having entrusted it to a renovator — it will cost me a 
pretty penny ! ” 

The coat had been roughly treated by the thorns of 
this gypsy life, and Maximin eyed it sorrowfully. 

“ Stop a bit ! ” he said of a sudden. “ Palombo 
picked up a t better coat under an olive tree the other 
day — I disremember what became of the wearer in it. 
That I will don. Go on, uncle ! Your nephew shall 
come out a credit to the Roures.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A NOVEL INTRODUCTION. 

With this assurance, Roureleft the young man to per- 
fect his toilet, make his reflections on the plan which had 
no defect save in being directed against Lise and not her 
adopted Cardeline, and to steal to the designated 
ambuscade. 

He was in good time, as Roure was retained at the 


52 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


house. When Lise admitted him, she was agitated. 
She had a narrow escape of being buried alive in the 
subterraneans, as they had an iron door working by a 
spring which she kept oiled. She almost considered 
the escape a warning from above against her disposal 
of the treasure. The visitor ascribed the emotion to a 
cause which would serve his plot. 

I see you were alarmed at having a caller,” he said. 

No wonder ! a desert, these juins, nothing enlivening 
and encouraging hereabouts. Truth to say. Mademoi- 
selle, no women and very few men of my acquaintance 
would consent to live in such isolation, without any 
protection from malefactors.” 

Lise shook her head at the idea of poor recluses 
being molested. 

“ These valuables only pass through my hands,” she 
added. 

“ Nevertheless, two women are in danger so near a 
large town with an ugly floating population, and a con- 
vict prison whence escapes are frequently made. Well, 
in your place, I would certainly have a protector.” 

“ A man ! ” 

A young man, one who is to be depended on. But 
this is no way to deal with one of your intelli- 
gence. No more badgering about the mouth of the 
question. I prefer to speak sincerely to you with an 
open heart, as beseems a man of my character. This 
is the case. Mademoiselle : I have for a nephew a charm- 
ing youth ” 

“ Your clerk ? I saw him.” 

“ No, no, not my clerk. A fiery spirit who could not 
be chained to a desk. He went into the navy and had 
a brilliant career before him, when his hot head spoiled 
it all. After an altercation with one of his superior 
officers, he was condemned to a few days’ imprison- 
ment in irons and rather than submit to what he be- 
lieved injustice, he preferred to desert, and he came to 
ask a hiding place of me.” 

Lise listened distractedly. As long as the clerk, 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


53 


Mazan, whom she had noticed at the church furnishers 
door, was not concerned, the proposal seemed tame. 
To her listless ear, therefore, Roure went on to declare 
that he hoped to obtain Maximin’s pardon by reason 
of his position in the city and his acquaintances and 
connections among the higher clergy. The essential 
point was to keep him sequestered from the police, 
because if he were caught, there would have to be a 
trial by court-martial and then influence would be in 
vain. He could not be hidden in Toulon. Roure 
said he had been trying to find a sanctuary among 
the fishers or peasants of the suburbs, but they were 
inquisitive and spiteful. 

“ Their behavior towards you proves that,” he point- 
edly interpolated. 

In short, the idea had struck him a while back on 
seeing Mdlle. Tavernier’s delightful retreat, that poor 
Max would be shielded from pursuit here. 

“ Perhaps you would consent to harbor him for a 
few days.” 

Lise thought the house too small for a lodger. 

Pooh ! there must be some nook — some hole in the 
wall or the ground.” 

But I am not rich enough to entertain a guest.” 

‘‘ Never fear that the boy would be a burden to you,” 
Roure hastened to say, yet not without a sigh. “ And 
as we have entered into business relations which will, 
I trust, continue some time — come, come. Mademoi- 
selle, listen to your kind heart. You can, without it 
costing you anything, save the honor of a family ! Oh, 
I am sure that you would yield if you were to see 
poor Maximin — he has so open, and winning a face, 
and his youth and loyalty would soon overcome your 
scruples. Will you see him ? shall I call him ? ” 

“ Where is he, then ! ” she cried out, rising and look- 
ing around. 

Without waiting for a signal, Maximin, who had 
overheard every word of this dialogue, scrambled upon 
the wall by help of the fig-tree and neatly executing 


54 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


the feat of leaping down upon the garden path, fell 
in the traditional stage attitude of a lover kneeling to 
his mistress, on one knee. Roure could not help 
approving by a nod. 

“ Here ! At your feet, Mademoiselle,” he answered, 
confidently awaiting your disposal of my fate. My 
arrival is rather abrupt, I allow. • I was in the ruins 
till I was asked in, as my uncle suggested, but some 
gendarmes came along the road. I was frightened. 
In two skips I was over the wall. If I have done 
wrong I will go out even into the jaws of the lion.” 

Mdlle. Tavernier had lowered her eyes after a glance 
at the speaker. Any decision she had com.e to was 
not uttered, for a violent pull at the bell, (one of deep 
tone which she had found in the Cloisters) startled 
them all. Maximin turned pale and did not look 
much like rushing into the jaws of Brunette, still less 
any lion’s, and his uncle had serious thoughts of div- 
ing into the well or the bucket. If the young man had 
attempted to scale the wall in the other direction, he 
would have been seen on it. 

Lise was the only one who prescribed her equanimity ; 
she opened the house door and waved them both in. 
Roure caught hold of his nephew, and whispering, “ It’s 
done ! ” drew him in-doors with him, leaving the hostess 
to manage the rest. After making sure that the two 
men had left no vestige, she went to the gate on the 
road and opened a wicket in it to inspect the person who 
again pulled at the bell hard enough to arouse the 
sleeping nuns to whom it once had given daily the sum- 
mons. 

It was no disagreeable countenance that was presented. 
On the contrary, she saw Mazan. He was dusty and 
hot with a gallop on another horse from the stable of 
the Lesser St. John Hotel. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” she challenged, too much sur- 
prised to open the door to him. 

It was a great misfortune. Madame Roure had died 
as suddenly as if by a lightning stroke. Maximin’s 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


55 


visit to his uncle had been of evil augury so soon. 
Mazan was admitted, and to expedite the return, har- 
nessed his horse in tandem to that in the cabriolet. He 
and his master rapidly drove off. 

Spite of a forced tear or two and a couple of sighs, M. 
Roure had not shown any proper grief Mazan noticed 
it as well as Mdlle. Tavernier, but both had other matters 
on their minds. In the hurried visit, Mazan had not 
seen Cardeline, a hope which had given ppint to his 
journey, and Mdlle, Tavernier was in doUbt whether she 
was not harboring a wolf in the fold. All were disap- 
pointed or in doubt save Roure. 


CHAPTER IX. 

*‘WHEN LOVE COMES LATE — ” 

More than a week has passed. With a view of pre- 
venting a discovery by Cardeline, as well as to enjoy 
himself in the company of his two kindred spirits, 
Maximin passed the nights on the other side of the 
Cloister’s wall. During absences of both the women he 
had hunted about like a seeker of spring water in a 
desert, but he had found nothing but a few baskets of 
old wine and some bottles of the famous elixir distilled 
by the Ursuline Sisters in former days. He had to con- 
clude that the golden treasure promised by his uncle, 
was locked up somewhere and that the key was one of 
those on the bunch inseparable frorfi Mdlle. Tavernier’s 
girdle. He could not hope to wheedle her out of that, and 
he had been cautioned not to have recourse to force. 

As much as he avoided Cardeline, and even Brunette, 
who had whinnied alarmingly and kicked at the stable 
wall, when he was prowling around, so Mdlle. Tavernier 
kept the girl from sight of him. She was jealous, no 
doubt. 

She had so altered that Cardeline hardly knew her. 
Hope of a worthy life had rejuvenated, enlivened and 




LISE TAVERNIER, 


embellished her. She no longer dressed in the hideous 
hooded cloak of the begging lay sister, but came out in 
old-fashioned but handsome attire which she did over in 
imitation of the fashions last seen in the town. She 
always had the appearance now of the well-to-do farmer’s 
helpmate, ready to go to the fair. She spent hours in 
trimming bonnets and trying them on, and had entirely 
shaken off any nun-like aspect. Her hair, too, which 
had been straightened and made all the more profuse 
by the shaving during her conventual life, was so lux- 
uriant, glossy and admirable that Cardeline stared at it 
as at a saint’s glory. She called the young girl in to be 
her handmaid and sought all information on toilets from 
that still more ignorant quarter. Then, suddenly, she 
had a fit of jealousy against Cardeline from some un- 
guarded observation of the refugee Maximin, and the two 
women lived at odds since a day or two. 

This mode of existence could not long continue, and 
Lise meant to precipitate the catastrophe. She proposed 
— since Maximin and she could never dine together 
without apprehension of Cardeline’s dropping in — a pic- 
nic of the two at Uzelles, which could be reached by a 
road through the forest, consequently, rarely frequented. 

It was all one to the young man, who was burdened by 
this quiet, too, though he feared that the step was im- 
prudent. No news had come from Roure, not even via 
Cardeline per Mazan, since his wife’s decease. Max, 
who remembered the drug in the pocket of the cast-off 
garments, which had steeped the crew of the Janna 
Coeli in an oblivion lasting beyond this world, dreaded 
that the police had laid hand on him. He might be 
sought as an accessory, and, really, charges enough 
impended over him as it was. 

Lise overruled all his remonstrances, becoming impe- 
rious, and startling him at times. He anticipated trouble 
with the future Madame Maximin. 

She was eager for the pleasure of the lovers’ walk and . 
the pride of being out on a man’s arm for the first time 
in her life. Never before had she studied the latter 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


57 


simple act, but now she saw that it was full of delicate 
variations. Some women let their hand rest lightly on 
the companion’s arm ; some cling to it with their hands 
enclasped, hanging on ; others still grasped the arm as 
much as to say, “ I’d like to. see any body try to detach 
my hold ! ” 

In short, her desire to be wed and bid this long, lonely 
life cease, made her almost love this stranger. The more 
she elevated him in her ideal of him in her charmed 
eyes, the more she disparaged herself.' She feared she 
should be younger and handsomer to bewitch him ; 
better informed on life, society and travel, for he had 
ventured all the world over and knew so much. 

So dashing a fellow, too ! a sea-eagle metamorphosed 
into a man ! 

How the slow-going peasants and even the dull 
townsfolk would die of rage to see whom the Disgowned 
Nun had carried off from them Ml ! She had been long 
deferred in vengeance, but she would have her glut at last. 
Not that this was any inducement, for she felt too happy 
on the whole to care to cherish spite, notwithstanding 
all the heart-burning they had caused her so many years. 
Her hatred died away, withered in the sunshine. Love 
alone reigned in her heart. 

She moved about the house lightly as on wings, to 
the wonderment of Cardeline who was helping her to 
pack the luncheon basket, which Brunette was to trans- 
port. They filled it to bursting with the best fruit from 
the wall : figs and melons ; then came a pasty, anchovies, 
mulled wine — a splendid repast to be wasted on sweet- 
hearts who, it is known all the world over, would merely 
trifle with chopsticks if asked to sup with Lucullus. 

Whilst this useless preparation was made, Maximin, 
who, as previously arranged, did riot come to the house 
this morning, was ambushed by the roadside awaiting 
the outcoming of Mdlle. Tavernier and Brunette. 

He had cracked several bottles of old Frontignac, 
stolen from Lise’s convent vaults, with his inseparable 
cronies and his head was inhabited by the demons who 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


58 

ring innumerable bells, say Buzz ! in a thousand tones 
and altogether make a man fretful and jaundiced in his 
views. 

He was not sorry when he heard tokens of a passen- 
ger on the road, but it was one calculated rather to 
deepen gloom than disperse it. 

It was a* most funereal personage : clad in black, with 
a crape weeper on his hat, a mourning bordered hand- 
kerchief in his hand and a visage of the rueful descrip- 
tion to match. The gloom even deepened as the tearful 
eyes spied the young man, who had risen from the 
bushes at their mutual recognition. 

“ Uncle Crocodile ! turned up at last ? ” cried Maxi- 
min, laughing. 

“ Ah, my boy,” whined Roure, putting his handker- 
chief to his eyes; “ do I see you again after my dreadful 
loss.” 

“ What ! did she take the till with her ? ” 

“ Incorrigible one ! know you not that we loved one 
another dearly and were such a united couple ! Only two 
days before her departure to Abraham’s bosom, did not 
the dear creature say : ‘ Oh, Roure, there is not another 
man in the world like you to make a woman happy ! ’ ” 

“ Oh, that might be said two days before you had the 
Extractum Janna Coeli,'' sneered Max. Drop that 
undertaker’s flummery with me ! ” 

” It is true ! you are right — I ought not to annoy you 
with my mourning, particularly as you look so bonny 
and jolly ! Seclusion suits you ! ” 

Perhaps I dilute it with too much wine.” 

“ Found the key to her cellar, eh ? ” 

Found the cellar ” 

“ Where the gold is ? ” 

Not a stiver ! ” 

But the wedding present ? ” 

I know np more about it than you.” 

‘‘ You are playing false,” cried Roure, fiercely. 

“ Deuce a bit ! ” 

“ What ! haven’t you hit it off together ? ” 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


59 


“ Yes ; she’s infatuated,” said Maximin, complacently. 
“ She’s in the barrel and f^have only to head it up ! we 
are going on a picnic — join us, and after the wine and 
nuts, we’ll beseech your blessing;.” 

“ Sure ? ” 

“ I can tell by the infallible touchstone : she is infer- 
nally jealous.” 

“Jealous — of what ! ” 

“ Of the little girl ! Cardeline ! I cannot get a glimpse 
of her, and she has never seen me. You should see the 
glance of fury Mdlle. Tavernier gave her when once the 
girl approached the stable where I was concealed — and 
nearly brained by that ill-bred mule of theirs.” . 

“ Is she suspicious of you ? ” 

“ She cannot be, but her nature has become brooding, 
alert, wary, wily — it is as much as I can do to sneak out 
the wine and have a night with the boys in the ruins.” 

“ Still harping with those rascals ? ” 

“ I should die of weariness but for them.” 

“ I am sorry you have not found the yellow-birds’ 
nest,” said Roure, distractedly, wiping his forehead with 
the mourning. streamer in oblivion. 

“ Pooh ! it’s a matter of patience. As soon as I am 
married ” 

The church furnisher nodded, but went on sourly : 

“ Of course, but in your own interest I should have 
been glad to hear you had a certainty. However,” he 
added on reflection, “ you are always safe to have a few 
rods of vine land, a house, a bottle or two of Ursuline 
Elixir and a handsome wife.” 

“ Are you so sure that the land is her property ? ” 

“ She’s lived on it nearly twenty years- ” 

“ Ay, but it’s the commune’s.” 

“ Nobody will invest in haunted property.” 

“ Pooh ! if I get her money I’ll make the title sure.” 

“ That’s it, the money or the equivalent.” 

“ You say that very doubtingly, uncle. Come, come, 
you have not been deluding a young man into a harpy’s 
claws, have you ? ” 


6o 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


“ But I have not seen any sequel to the pieces of plate 
I bought, and you have leaned nothing new on your 
part — well, may I not begin to fear that she may be a 
cunning woman who employs this bait of a buried treas- 
ure for a man-trap ? ” 

The young man fell a-thinking and, scowling, closed 
his hand as if upon a knife-haft. These rogues who 
thrive upon deceit, feel no cut so painfully as when 
cheated in their turn. 

You say you are going to have a day together. Had 
I not best see her for a moment, before you start? 
According to what I draw from her I can prompt you 
how to act ? ” 

“ I don’t care,” said the other with a sombre air. 

Roure the elder chose to take this as full consent and 
trudged on alone to the house. But, as became one of 
his cautious, unscrupulous disposition, he did not ring at 
the door this time, but crept along the wall to the spot 
where Maximin had found it easy to climb up and over, 
as well as spy what was going on. 

CHAPTER X. 

WITH A LINE OF WRITING, ONE MAY BE HANGED ” 

Baptistin Roure had not dulled his eyes by weeping 
over his spouse for he could use them properly. He 
had a view of no upper window, which was just as well, 
since it would have commanded one of him. But he 
could peer into the main room, rather conventual, hav- 
ing smooth walls, whitewashed. The only ornament 
was a small looking-glass deeply framed and veiled to 
keep off flies with faded striped muslin ; a long curtain 
shut off an alcove in which was a small iron bedstead 
and a clumsy clothes-press with ancient iron bands. 
There was a large wooden arm-chair from the top of 
which a cross had been hacked, and a work-table. 

A fresh and pretty person sat in this musty chair at 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


6i 


the table and was, with a good deal of weariness, com- 
posing a letter. It was Cardeline. Repose had made 
a young lady of her, and the unintended lessons in 
deportment which the ex-nun gave her in their inti- 
mate intercourse, had further improved the smuggler’s 
daughter. Roure hardly knew her again. 

Lise was in her room upstairs — for this bed of hers 
had been given up to her young protdgd — and the latter 
snapped at this opportunity to begin a love-letter to 
Mazan which the picnic would certainly enable her to 
complete ^in uninterrupted solitude. 

There was no fear of her finding time hang heavily to 
judge by her smiling face. She had the mystery to 
write about — the misplacement of articles, the absurd 
excuses of Mdlle. Tavernier for broken things, the many 
pretexts to send her up the road or down the road, all 
the devices to keep her from coming into contact with 
young Roure. 

Since he had been in hiding here, petty vexations 
which had met Cardeline were blown afar. Lise spoke 
to her always softly and the mule did not show his 
teeth or feel round for her with a terrible hoof. Poor 
girl ! she had not noticed that her benefactress eyed her 
in incipient jealousy — she was too innocent for that. 

Roure no sooner saw her deeply enwrapt in her epis- 
tolary task than he was seized with a burning curiosity 
to read over her shoulder. Such mean natures yearn to 
share in the secrets of everybody. He climbed over the 
wall in his garb of woe, like a crow, and on lowering 
himself down by the fig tree, undid the inside bolt. He 
left it undone and proceeded to the back door where 
scufifiing his shoes a little for decency’s sake, he stumbled 
into the room. 

“ Nobody about ! ” he cried out in the most natural 
tone, but instantly noticing the young girl who sprang 
up and thrust a ring into her corsage, he pursued. 
Nay, here is Mademoiselle Beaujard. Heaven bless 
you, my dear child ! ” 

Cardeline tremblingly crumpled the commenced letter 


62 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


up, and pushed it into the table-drawer, which she closed. 
She trembled so that her “ good-morning ! ” to the lugu- 
brious intruder was barely audible. He poured out an 
elaborate apology for having come in by the back-way 
but he had seen that the door in the wall was open. He 
had expected to find the ladies in the garden, culling 
flowers or gathering fruit. 

All this with a heavy sigh which reminded the hearer 
of the widower’s loss. 

Open ! ” repeated Cardeline. “ How strange ! I 
thought my cousin was still upstairs, but she must have 
gone out that way ” 

“ Gone out when I came to see her as soon as I was 
able to resume business,” lamented Roure. * 

“ She is going to a picnic at Uzelles ” 

Ah ! there are people who can make merry ! ” 
sighed Roure. 

‘‘ But she cannot be long gone, and I will run after 
her — ” said Cardeline. 

“ Do, do, my dear ! ” said he, seating himself in her 
place so that the table drawer could not be opened with- 
out moving him. “ In my present state of exhaustion, 
for tears are exhaustive to a man at my age, I should 
be sorry to make a useless journey.” 

Cardeline would have liked to carry her letter with her, 
but the attempt would be vain now, for Roure actually 
leaned his arms on the table. So she hoped to recover 
it later and darted out of the room. The visitor did not 
wait for her light footsteps to carry her to the garden 
wall before trying to ascertain what she had been so 
mysteriously inditing. On opening the drawer and 
picking up the letter, he read to himself: 

“ My Darling Friend: I take advantage of a moment 
when I am by myself to write you a loving line and 
thank you for the pretty ring you gave me the other 
day. O, when shall I be yours and yours only, my dear 
Ma — ” the name had been broken short off by the sur- 
prise of the church furnisher’s entrance. The latter 
construed this in his own way. 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


63 


“ ' My darling friend ’ — that’s pretty strong for a young 
beginner! ‘Advantage of a moment — ’ You see, it 
never does to leave these innocents for a moment alone 1 
Whom is the writing to ? I can guess I ‘ Ma’ — not her 
ma, ril be bound — no, it’s to my nephew Max — the 
Lovelace ! She never has seen him, he said I believe 
that, and you’ll drink water for wine if told wine it is ! 
Oh, the rascal — he has lost no time. Two bonnet- 
strings to my beau ! With this one, he is at the stage 
of giving rings and getting billets-doux ; with the other, 
at pic nics on the grass 1 Upon my word, he is going it, 
with wholesale murders on his head I Murder,” he 
replied in a lower tone. “ Yet had Madame Roure died 
a couple of days sooner, I could have managed this diffi- 
cult affair more profitably. I hate accomplices, and 1 
should have cleared him out of the way,” said the black 
vulture, grinding his teeth savagely. I have some of the 
powder yet, and his picnic might end in a fatal indiges- 
tion 1 If he were only out of the way, it is I who might 
lead the ex- nun to the altar and not have to share the. 
treasure. We shall see, though, we shall see I The 
marriage contract is not signed yet and another Roure’s 
name may be substituted for the one on the parchment, 
with a little ingenuity.” 

Meanwhile he took possession of the girl’s love letter 
without any idea of what use he could put it to, but he 
collected unconsidered trifles as a diplomatist always 
stores documents up however trivial. 

A creaking of the floor over his head and a step 
descending the narrow stairs revealed to him that the 
proprietress of the house was still in doors. He 
resumed his mournful air and flourished his handker- 
chief as Mdlle. Tavernier entered the room, apparelled 
for the al fresco lunch. 

“ Good-morning 1 ” he hastened to say. “ Pray excuse 
me, but seeing you so trimmed up and thinking of my 
poor lost one in the g — g— grave clothes — ” he buried 
his face in his cambric and blubbered some unintelligi- 
ble phrase. “Unhappily,” he faltered as he once more 


64 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


came up to the surface of mundane affairs, so to say, 
“ the shop has to go on though the hearth is darkened 
— desolate forever. Have you seen your friend since 
my disaster — has she anything in my line ? ” 

Lise nodded. 

“ I intended to call on you to-morrow with an object 
of uncommon value. My friend is very eager to dispose 
of it. I have it here — could I not show it you ? ” 

“ No, Mademoiselle, not here, not now, not ” he 

went on with an effort — where Maximin may enter.” 

“ Why not ? ” she exclaimed in surprise. 

“ Because I find I have introduced a scoundrel under 
your roof. It pains me to have to make this admission, 
but duty. Mademoiselle, duty above everything ! ” he 
clapped the handkerchief to his heart. “ What I have 
just learnt about Maximin, horrifies me! I have only 
one thing which I hasten to say to you : Beware of 
him!” 

What have you learnt ?” queried the ex-nun, turn- 
ing pale and leaning on the table ledge for support. 

” Condensed horror ! But not to go too far a-field, 
just imagine that since this reprobate has had the honor 
of lodging under your roof, he has been entertaining, at 
your expense in the Cloisters over there, two ruffians of 
the worst kind — thieves, footpads — they waylaid me ! 
deserters, worse than anything I can accuse them of 
being.” 

Lise looked highly incredulous for all of the inform- 
ant’s earnestness. 

“Whilst you were sleeping the slumber of the just, 
your wine leaped over your wall ” 

Lise laughed heartily. 

“ So that’s what reduced my Frontignac ! I feared 
Cardeline had taken to drink ! ha, ha, ha ! what do you 
want of youth ? it is quite natural he should amuse him- 
self.” 

Roure was vexed, for it was clear that Mdlle. Taver- 
nier was “ infatuated,” as his nephew had guaranteed. 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


65 


“ Well, since you take it this way, I can saj^ no 

more ; still, if anything untoward happens you ” 

“ What can happen ? she asked, listlessly. 

“ Do you not understand, unhappy woman who knows 
not what turpitude abounds in some lives, that such vil- 
lains are capable of any atrocity.” Looking round tim- 
idly, he continued in a lower tone. You are not in safety 
here with such precious objects under your care as you 
have sometimes,” 

This time his hearer was moved. 

“How now! do you suggest that Maximin — Come 
to the point, why are you telling me all this stuff? ” 

“ Because I am bound to clear your eyes — for you are 

blind — blinded by love ” 

“ Yes, I love him,” said she, placidly, “ and a great 
happiness it is.” 

“ But he does not love you.” 

Had the old mirror into which she was glancing 
reflected a Gorgon’s face, she could not have been more 
startled than by this plain blow to her illusion. 

“Why is he going to marry me, then ?” she triumph- 
antly argued, after a pause ; “ for we are going to be mar- 
ried, don’t you know.” 

“Yes, I do know; it was talked about even at the 
funeral. You have been trumpeting everywhere that 
you were going to wed a man who would be worth 
millions. That is what tempted the young scapegrace ; 
but beware after the wedding feast ! ” 

She stepped round the table to him and presented a 
mien so alarming that he sprang back. 

That is not true I you lie I he does love me ! ” 

“ It is true — I do not lie. He makes love to another 
not far from here, sheltered by your blind passion.” 

Lise gazed around like one who suspects a serpent is 
in the grass at foot and suddenly uttered a cry of fury. 
“ Cardeline I ” 

“The very one,” replied Roure, with a chuckle. “No- 
body but a nun would have let a man court her with a 
chit of sixteen by her side.” 


66 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


“ He has not seen her ! ” 

“ Oh, has he not ! ” 

She has not seen him ! ” 

“ Well, did not Cupid win without being seen by his 
bride ? ” 

She spoke through her grinding teeth, saying : 

“ The proof — the proof of what you say.” 

Roure put his hand in his pocket. 

I hold the proof and will give it you, but only on 
condition that you do not make any noise over it. There 
are three of those ruffians, and you are alone. My 
advice is that the young scamp should be sent packing, 
but do all in gentleness.” 

He handed her Cardeline’s letter. 

“The girl was writing to him half a minute ago.” 
She was reading with distended eyes and paid him no 
heed. “ Things are at an advanced stage, you will 
notice. He has been buying her trinkets with your 
money, no doubt ! ” 

“ The wretches ! they shall pay me for this ! ” said 
Lise, who heard somebody in the garden and dashed 
past Roure who did not try seriously to stay her. 

It was Cardeline who was returning, breathless with 
her useless run. 

“ Oh, you are here, cousin ! ” she said, before she 
remarked her infuriated gesture and fiery face. 

Lise caught her by the wrist and swung her round 
down to her feet. She held out the purloined letter. 

“Whafs that?” she demanded. 

“ M — m — my letter,” murmured poor Cardeline, para- 
lyzed with surprise. 

“ What is this, I ask you ? ” 

“ I — I do not know ! ” protested the girl, rising and 
shaking off the grasp with energy. 

“ Did you not write this ? ” 

To name Mazan before his employer, this cold, pious, 
unsympathetic man, would certainly be ruin to the clerk. 
Cardeline determined to stick to the untruth. 

“ I have written nothing,” she replkd so firmly that 


LISE TA VERNIER. 

M. Roure would have believed had he not seen her with 
the pen and ink over that same paper. 

“ Not yours ! and yet it is your writing, and, look ! her 
fingers are wet with ink ” 

“Blackberries!” 

“ Oh I ” ejaculated Roure, indignantly. “ Unhappy 
child ! how can one tell such a falsehood with a counte- 
nance so candid — so beauti ” 

“ You do not know ! ” burst forth Lise, “but I mean 
to know. Speak, you viper, or I’ll crush you 1 ” 

Roure stepped between them, though it required some 
courage. La Tavernier appeared in a light never before 
seen : even when, younger, she had turned on the urch- 
ins who tormented her, she had been less of a fury. 
Cardeline began weeping, but it did not quench her ire. 

“ Desist,” whispered the widower. “ He may come 
and hear you.” 

“You are right,” said Lise, suddenly calming. “Go 
to my room ! I’ll find sweethearts for you, you cat — 
you serpent ! ” 

Cardeline hurried up the stairs, sobbing fit to break 
her heart, while Lise looked after her, white with passion 
and trembling to follow her and have done with her. 

The witness watched her patiently and with a good 
knowledge of women’s moods, until her fibres relaxed. 
She opened her fists, her eyes emitted less fire, and she 
sank into the arm chair. A flow of tears would have 
relieved her overcharged heart and washed away her 
revengeful thoughts ; but they would not come. She 
stared into vacancy with a despairing, still malevolent 
eye, and a p\irpose scintillating afar but growing. As it 
defined itself, it bespoke relief of a kind. 

“ Right,” thought Roure, “ she will not do the girl 
any violence now; but I counsel her to shoot the bolt all 
the same. As for me, I am no tiger tamer. I shall run 
and tell Maximin to keep out of reach of the claws.” 

His departure was unnoticed though he carried away 
with him a last look of Lise’s wrathful eyes. 


68 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


CHAPTER XL 

WALLS HAVE EARS. 

“ Stand ! or expect a stone on your skull ! ” called 
out a voice well-known to the church furnisher. 

“ Max ! ” he replied, joyously. 

The young man stepped out from behind a fragment 
of the ruins, on which he had been posted, and laid 
down a formidable portion of a marble pilaster. 

“ I wanted to find you. The lady is not coming.” 

The picnic ? ” 

“ For all I know the mule will have the clearing out 
of the provision basket.” 

“ What do you mean ? Is the game up ? Good ! I 
was sick and tired of being humbugged by her all my 
life.” 

He sat down on the stones, as if relieved indeed. 

Renouncing the sport ! You are wrong — it may be 
an excellent chance.” 

I know all about that song. I don’t believe the yarn 
about the nunnery service.” 

“Well, I do sincerely believe it,” said Roure, emphati- 
cally. “ I have, even more, just heard of another portion 
of it.” 

“ I only know,” went on Maximin, sulkily kicking at 
the pilaster, “ that you are a shy old fox and I am a 
goose who walks into your gullet.’’ 

“ Suppose it were so,” returned the church furnisher, 
firmly. “You luckless boy! granting I invented the 
whole story to endeavor to procure you a cosy fireside^ 
a rich and handsome wife and a taste of regular life full 
of good and holy things ” 

He paused, for the congregation of one was looking 
round uneasily and not listening to the preacher. 

“ What are you seeking ? ” 

“ I fancied somebody was here besides — it is not 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


69 

possible that you are spouting that balderdash for my 
instruction.”. 

“ Ah well,” said the other, vexed. “ Since you take 
me in that mood, I have no more to say. Good- 
bye!” 

“ Stop a minute,” said young Roure, holding up his 
hand. “ We have an account to settle.” 

“ Eh ? ” with a puzzled shake of the head, but he sat 
down on the base of a statue. 

“You’ll understand fast enough. You must remem- 
ber the scare I gave you a month ago when I dropped 
in? It is not worth referring to, but you did turn an 
ugly green on seeing me, ha, ha ! The reason why was 
evident: such a hungry-looking chap as I was! To 
dull my hunger you hatched up the tale of La Taver- 
nier having a fortune in plate. A very pretty tale, but 
very light for steady diet. I want something more solid 
— or, look out for the wolf ! With such an appetite as 
mine, I am fit to gnaw the gilding off your prayer- 
book.” 

“ You mean cash. How much ? ” 

Maximin paused to make a calculation of his wants 
and his uncle’s probable balance, before he replied : 

“ Four thousand francs ” 

“ Ah, four thousand ! ” repeated Roure, not too 
sourly. 

“ For me, and a thousand a-piece for my pals — that 
makes six — six thousand francs.” 

“ Go to the deuce for your six thousand ! ” thundered 
the exasperated man, “ you shall not have a souP 

“ Very well, I shall not go,” said the young man, 
stretching out his legs at ease. “ There will be some fun 
in this part of the globe that’s all.” 

“ But would you go any way ? ” said Roure, dubiously. 

“ And did you go, what security have I that you would 
not be back in two or three or four months with a keener 
appetite than before ? ” 

“ Oh, i see where your shoe pinches 1 but I shall 
soon lighten the pressure on your corn. 1 am going to 


;o 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


consult my comrades about where we shall try our luck. 
Be assured it will be at a distance from Toulon hulks.” 

“ Consult with them, then, and come with your decision 
to my shop to-morrow.” 

“ I will ; but, mind, papa Koure, no gendarmes 
behind the door or under the counter. I shall not be 
alone and I carry fireams.” 

I am not a man of bloodshed ” 

“I forgot; well, remember me in youi* prayers,” 
laughed Max, whereupon uncle and nephew parted. 

The former went to the road and walked to town with 
a satisfied smirk, while the younger entered deeper 
among the Cloisters and made a fire beside which he 
dozed until his comrades returned from poaching. 

Unable to sleep that night any better than Roure him- 
sel, Lise who retook the large room for herself and 
kept Cardeline a prisoner up stairs, soon descried after 
dusk the bandits’ fire in the ruins. So reckless were 
they in the matter that it would have given an alarm in 
the village had not the flames been well enclosed by the 
arcades. 

Without a clear idea of what was going on, but hav- 
ing a fear that Maximin the faithless was trying to 
secure her treasure without the burden of herself, Lise 
drew on her nun-like hood and cloak and sallied forth. 
Through the postern door, she entered the ruins at once, 
and familiar with every inch of the way, speedily, and 
unsuspectedly reached the bivouac of Max, and his 
colleagues. 

They were cooking a savory mess in an old kettle 
over a tripod of sticks in the orthodox style of the Zin- 
gari Jief, 

“ I tell you the fire will be seen from the road,” said 
Maximin. 

“ It’s chilly — toss another bough on,” said Palombo. 
“ If seen, they will believe it is only the ghosts of the 
nuns.” 

'‘Don’t call them up,” interrupted Garagous, in a 
tremor ; “ it upsets one’s one’s nerves. Hark I ” 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


n 


‘‘ I hear nothing ! ” 

“ Stop your nonsense,” said Maximin, rousing himself. 

Let the peasants believe what they like. I care not a 
fig, for we must be off before another night. I shall have 
the travelling expenses.” 

Good ! ” said both the others, who had been exchang- 
ing glances of significance while their commander 
mused. 

“ Open the last bottle that came from the ex-nun’s bin 
and listen to my plans.” 

“ Allow me, first,” said Garagous. “ J have been as 
much about the town as I dare go, and I fell in with an 
old shipmate. His skipper, a French renegade, has his 
ship off the Hybres Isles — an Algerian under Danish 
colors pro tem. He is short-handed and makes a mag- 
nificent offer for two or three seamen. So then, as we 
cannot waste our lives in this mole hill among the 
spectres, and the Algerian engages to give us the first 
lots, we two have decided to sling our hammocks else- 
where. 

“I’m one,” said Maximin. “Only we must have 
some sport with my capital at the first port.” 

Lise, in her hiding place, shuddered to think the young 
man was so eager to leave her and adopt the pirate’s life. 
All his uncle had said was confirmed by his first words. 

“ Bravo ! ” said Garagous, clapping his hands. 

“ But this game with the old nun ? ” queried Pal- 
ombo. 

“ Don’t speak of it again. I have been tricked, but 
my uncle will have to pay me damages. When can we 
go aboard? ” 

“ At seven to-morrow evening, at the point of the 
Golden Isles,” replied Garagous. 

“ It’s settled. I only need the morning to-morrow to 
settle my account with the old hypocrite. Are your 
glasses charged gentlemen ? Then — Here’s to the free 
flag — ‘ Rawhead and crossbones ’—may they long wave 
over us ! ” 

Taking advantage of the clink of the three glasses 


72 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


and the revelers’ hilarity, the spy hastened home. Had 
she been seen, they would have taken- her shrouded 
form for one of the sisters. 

The jilt was on the verge of escaping, but she was 
determined he should not succeed. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE LAST DKAUGHT. 

Mazan had grown to expect the weekly letter from 
Cardeline, and the delay which was caused by Mdlle. 
Tavernier’s interception of it and the writer’s detention^ 
raised him to fever heat. 

He came down early into the work-shop as there was 
some modelling to do, but he had blundered at every- 
thing and only wasted the clay. The furnaces smoked, 
the window shutters tore his hands and sullied a clean 
shirt, and he could not get into a new sky-blue coat 
with the ease which the one furnished now in the ward- 
robe of Maximin Roure. 

Furthermore, he had been irritated by the apparition 
of Garagous, whose red nose, once seen, was ever mem- 
orable. Very little would have sufficed for Mazan to 
run after him and make the protuberance pale for a day 
or two. 

Yet he had plenty of better employment if he could 
have the day to himself. He would like to go out to 
the Cloisters and ask Mdlle. Tavernier for the hand of 
Cardeline. There were also, in accordance with the 
elaborate code in the rural districts, applications to be 
made to other members of her family, to wit. Uncle 
Fulcran — who did not alarm the lover greatly — his wife, 
a terror, and so on. These relatives would not have 
laid out a copper to save Cardeline from dying, but 
they would have set the township by the ears against 
him if they were not called upon and bowed down to. 


USE TAVERNIER. 


n 

He concluded to arrange with the maid and her imme- 
diate guardian first. 

He was, therefore, delighted when his employer, who 
wished to have the shop clear for his discussion with 
his nephew, gave him the morning’s holiday. By engag- 
ing the finest racer in the stud of the St. John the Less 
Hotel, he might see Cardeline and Lise and return by 
the dinner hour. 

Roure was pleased at being all alone, we say. His 
wife was in her grave and not a murmur counter to him 
had been raised. Usually, when a tradesman in a coun- 
try town has an ailing wife, the gossips find her a suc- 
cessor, but Roure had always appeared devoted, and he 
was discreet. His visits to the Cloisters had been too 
few and recent for the Prys to be on the scent. 

Reassured by Garagous, who had preceded his young 
commander into the town as a scout, Maximin entered 
in his turn and boldly showed himself at his uncle’s. He 
would not even take a seat, but bluntly informed him of 
his intention to take the turban,” as the Marseilles 
people call turning renegade, on board of the Algerian 
pirate. Under these circumstances, the prospect of his 
return into France was still more vague. If he were 
captured he would be hanged incontinently ; if he made 
his fortune, he would probably settle down in Algiers 
with a small harem and a large pipe, and smoke his life 
carelessly away whilst he accumulated corpulency— the 
Moslem ideal of happy existence. In either case, Uncle 
Roure would be quit of this thorn in the side. 

Roure sat at his cash- desk and having heard the young 
man’s programme with interest and credulity on the 
whole, drew out some bank notes. 

Let me see — we agreed on five thousand francs,” he 
said. 

“ Oh, no, seven,” corrected Max. 

“ Seven ! why, you said only six at the most, last 
evening.” 

“ Then, what made you say five for ? ” 

Roure evaded this point-blank shot, remarking : 


74 


USE TAVERNIER. 


“ Rogue, get along with you ! well — ” counting the 
hundred-franc bills, he added: “four, five — six — there 
you are ! ” 

“ It is rough on you,” said the young man, putting 
the bills away in more than one pocket beneath the sur- 
face of his garments, for nobody is so careful as a pick- 
pocket with money of his own, “but, d’ye see, I so wanted 
to carry away some memento of my dear uncle. Now, 
permit me to offer you my final farewell ! I have only 
one operation to perform before embarking, but it is 
rather delicate.” 

“ Eh?” 

“ Nothing much — only a good joke on the ex-nun,” 
he explained, laughing in the hearty way most can use 
when they have a round sum in cash on them. “ By 
thunder ! how she will go on this evening when she 
finds the birds flown.” 

“ What birds ? ” quickly inquired the older man in 
a tone of anxiety. 

“ Why, me and the girl.” 

Roure breathed again. It was the little cousin who 
was going off with the pirate, then ? 

“ Well, not to say accompanying me,” said Maximin, 
“ but I am going to kidnap her — that’s Algerian 
enough to show I have an inclination for the career, 
eh?” 

“ Very,” said the church furnisher, dryly. 

But as soon as his hopeful kinsman had departed, 
his cold face warmed, his eye brightened and his 
mouth expanded in a smile. The youth was as vicious 
as he had imagined, but not nearly as cunning, for he 
was prepared to have paid him twenty thousand francs 
for such a deliverance, if not more. Now the rest of 
the plot which he had devised in the silence of the 
night next the room where his poisoned helpmate no 
longer interrupted his meditations of evil by her cough- 
ing, would run on simple and easy. 

He would go and see Lise Tavernier, bearing the 
news of Maximin’s flight with her young rival. He 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


7S 


counted on her outburst of mortification being dread- 
ful — a tempest- of sobs, screams, tears and impreca- 
tions ; but he would not attempt to stem the tide with 
a single word. His part was to play the condoler and 
consoler ; to lend his shoulder and let her weep upon 
it. The sobs would slacken into sighs and they would 
be fewer and farther between until silence would ensue. 
Then would he venture a squeeze of the hand, and, at 
the first encouragement, a guarded declaration of his 
wishes. In anticipation, he was so successful that he 
recalled a long unpractised song, and, anywhere else, he 
would have danced a merry step. He prepared for his 
journey, which- should begin as soon as his clerk 
returned. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE ASKING IN MARRIAGE. 

But before Mazan appeared, the doorway’s rectangle 
of light was darkened by the startling apparition of the 
object of Roure’s scheme. Lise was pale and yet joy- 
ous in a tigerish way, panting with excitement. 

“ Divine goodness ! this is a surprise ! ” exclaimed the 
shopkeeper, coming round the counter and offering her 
a chair. 

“ Yes, I had to make an important early call in the 

city, and as I was a little tired ” 

Be seated, then ! ” 

“ I will and I’ll have a glass of water, too, if you don’t 
mind ? ” 

Certainly ! ” and he ran into the inner room, where 
he knocked the crockery about into a state of greater 
disorder than had reigned since he was left a widower. 
All the time he wondered what gave the visitor so grat- 
ified an air. 

“ Here it is,” he said, returning with a decanter and 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


76 

tumbler. “ Pray overlook the delay — but already I feel 
the loss of my housekeeper.” 

Lise drank more than once, but at last put the glass; 
down as if satiated. Roure had given her one glance,, 
and marking how splendid she looked with her cheeks; 
ablaze and her eyes kindled, he determined to launch 
his proposal. He turned the key in the street door and 
gallantly approached her. 

“ I am very glad to see you, my poor lady,” he com- 
menced. “ When you came in I was getting ready to* 
go out to the Cloisters to — to — warn you — hang it all ! 
it is rather embarrassing to tell you, and yet it must come 
out. Max has gone away.” 

Lise started up, repeating the words, but recovering 
herself, she took her seat again. 

“ You must be mistaken, for he was not going to sail 
until seven this evening.” 

She knew the particulars of the embarkation better 
than he. 

“ But,” he persisted, unwilling to acknowledge to him- 
self that he had no ground under him, you must be 
ignorant that his is a definite departure — that you will 
never see him again — he is going forever 

She lifted her brows as much as to say she wondered 
how this concerned her, and Roure was silent in won- 
der, too, for a space. He had not expected to find her 
so sensible when his impression was that she loved the 
scapegrace so passionately. But after all, he loves; 
me ” is next door to “ he loves me not ” in the test of 
plucking the rose leaves. Oh, woman ! woman ! thought 
Roure, wild at having tortured his brain only to find 
his conclusion worthless. 

In fact, you are right,” said he, finally, in not wor- 
rying yourself. The rascal only cared for your lucre, 
and he would have run away with it on the day after 
the wedding. It is true he would leave you his name, 
which, perhaps, is what you would have valued the 
most.” 

“ Not at all,” returned she, tartly. “ I have got 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


77 


through my lament over that loss. Matrimony is a 
dream now — I shall die in my conventual vows.” 

“ Indeed, you need not ! ” cried Roure, his eyes 
sparkling at the conversation giving him the desired 
opening, and coming to sit beside her with assurance. 

Come, come, you still require a life-partner. Well, I 
have another candidate to offer you — not a ragged 
tramper, but a well-to-do tradesman, and, moreover, 
member of the local Charity Board — the very best prize 
in the market.” 

She eyed him -without enflaming at the offer. 

I am not going to tell you he is a boy, or even a 
youth, but he is in his prime and ” 

“ Fie, M. Roure ! ” but she did not rise, and her smile 
was a trifle kindly. 

“ Well, what of M. Roure ! he is flesh-and-blood like 
any other man, and his heart not insensible to the attrac- 
tions of beauty. Do not laugh ! I swear to you that from 
the day when I first saw you, your impression has only 
sunk the deeper. At this, moment your eyes contain a 
youthful flame which — who — you — I — . In short, we 
need not go into that line — there is no need of billing 
and cooing between the like of us. The whole ques- 
tion lays in your wanting a partner.” 

“ Is this possible ! ” said the lady. A man like you, 
M. Roure, to consent to marry a poor outcast ” 

^‘Look me in the face, my dear,” said the emboldened 
widower, “ whilst we come to an explanation once for 
all. I know all about your poverty. You are in truth 
rich — very rich — incommensurably rich !” 

Still she shook her head. 

“ Have it your own way, but there is not a doubt in 
my mind. Whether you have it in a rat-hole, a cup- 
board or a cellar at the Cloisters, there is a gold mine 
there, and I offer myself as a partner to work it. It is 
fully understood, darling, that our marriage would be 
only a contract — a business asssociation. You bring 
into the business your secret and I exchange for it my 
name — the fine-sounding name of Baptistin Roure, 


78 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


which it has taken me ten years to work up and polish 
till it rings and shines ! Add to the same, a pretty 
round fortune, a business in full swing — a business 
which affords in itself the safest and most commodious 
outlet for getting rid of what you know. Such is my 
proposal — does it suit you ? 

Lise had heard him to the end with the same smile, 
some amazement tempering it at the audacity of the 
proposition from a widower of not a fortnight’s 
standing. 

“ No doubt, good M. Roure,” she replied, you are 
doing me a great honor, but do you not fear to incur 
prejudice for your — business by marrying a recreant 
nun ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” sneered Roure. I know so many high- 
class persons — I may say, parsons! I will get you 
relieved of your vows in double-quick time. Nothing 
easier ! With a couple of dashes of the pen all your 
past record at the Ursuline Convent will be marked out 
and you will see yourself Madame Roure in capital let- 
ters. Ay, and see yourself in that chair behind this 
very counter, in a splendid black silk dress and three 
turns of a gold chain round your neck! In they’ll 
come and out they’ll go — saluting Madame Roure and 
wishing you good-morning ! The Bishop, coming along 
in his coach, will send you a cordial smile. ‘Why, 
here’s Madame Roure ! ’ he will say, to the Cardinal on 
a visit, ‘ this is our famous Madame Roure I Good day 
to you 1 ’ As for the miserable clowns about the Clois- 
ters who tormented you so sadly, when they come to 
the town market on Saturday morning and see their 
former butt in this handsome ecclesiastical emporium 
dazzling with gold and colors, they will bow down to 
the dust. ‘ Hope we see you well, Madame Roure 1 ’ 
in their brogue. How nice it will be I Come, decide, 
quick.” 

She still smiled, and seemed to do so the heartier 
because of his eagerness. 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


79 

“Are you not yourself yearning to enjoy your 
wealth ? ” he questioned. 

P41e and grinding her teeth, she sprang up, and, 
waving away the suitor and his worldly lures, she 
exclaimed, savagely : 

“I am yearning to enjoy but one thing— my 
vengeance !” 

Roure started back in terror and dismay, but he had 
no time to express his disappointment as the door 
handle was impatiently turned. 

“ Confound him ! ” cried Roure, mechanically pro- 
ducing the key and inserting it in the lock. “ It is 
my clerk:” 

“You do not seem in any hurry to have a beholder of 
the second Madame Roure,” sarcastically observed 
Lise. 

“ Why yes, I am highly flattered,” replied he, open- 
ing the door to the young man who stumbled in. 

Mazan offered a rather risible appearance, as he 
had ridden fast and hard over to Mdlle. Tavernier’s 
and back. He found Cardeline alone there, and she 
only knew that her cousin had gone away early. She 
had got out by the window and the garden ladder, as 
the door was still locked without. More firmly set on 
releasing the girl from her thraldom than ever, he was 
delighted to meet her tyrant, and at this moment he cared 
no more for her than for his employer. 

“ What do you want ? ” challenged the latter. 

“ What do I — oh, here is Mdlle. Tavernier — the object 
of my search. I have been out to your house. Madem- 
oiselle.” 

“ Have you ?” was her rejoinder, in great nonchalance. 

“Yes, Mademoiselle,” proceeded Mazan,, stoutly, in 
% spite of her coldness and Roure’s surprised and forbid- 
ding look. “ I went to speak with you on a very impor- 
tant matter, and since we are met, I shall straightway 
broach it. My name is Mazan Brisebaure, and my father 
and mother are tapestry weavers, originally of Lyons, 
but now of the village of Clastres.” 


8o 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


Roure thought his assistant had gone mad, for he rat- 
tled off his harangue with a volubility unwonted in him 
and which prevented interruption. 

“ We are all honest folk against whom nobody can 
say anything,” said Mazan. “ I have been pretty nearly 
a year working for M. Roure in several capacities, and 
I have no reason to believe he is dissatisfied with me. 
If so, say so, Monsieur ! ” 

But what has all this rigmarole to do with Mdlle. 
Tavernier ? ” counter-queried the church furnisher. 

It is most essential. The lady must know that I 
am a respectable man with fair prospects, no vices and 
no debts — in short, the very material to make a good 
husband.” 

Roure was stupefied, and the lady did not hide her 
amusement at this shower of suitors. 

“ You serpent,” whispered Roure, stepping up behind 
him, “ one word more, and I’ll discharge you ! ” 

But why ” 

“ Let him speak ! ” cried Mdlle. Tavernier. 

Quite so. Mademoiselle. These matters have to be 
made clear at the end if not sooner. The secret has 
been a long time weighing upon me, as long as we have 
been loving one another.” 

This time Roure, who had a clue, laughed, and Mdlle. 
Taveriner looked stupefied. 

“ Long ? ” queried she. 

Certainly — since we went to school together ” 

You, at the convent? what are you talking about ? ” 
Of your cousin, Cardeline, of course,” rejoined 
Mazan. 

Roure would have wished a falling in of the roof 
before ever Mdlle. Tavernier could ask : 

“ Do you believe she loves you ? ” 

Believe ! ” reiterated the young artist-clerk. “ Look 
at the ring from her which I am wearing and in return 
for which I sent her a handsome and expensive one.” 

A ring ! this was a revelation, indeed. Mdlle. Tav- 


LISE TAVERIVIER. 8 1 

ernier impetuously drew a letter from her satchel and 
handed it to the young man, 

“ As you sent her a ring, may not this note be for 
you ? ” she asked. 

Mazan hardly more than cast his eyes upon it before 
he uttered a gleeful outcry. There were not two men 
on earth whom his Ninette would address as “ dearest " 
and “ darling,” he was confident. 

Lise wrung her hands in woe at what she had done 
in her resentment. Suddenly she darted to the door, 
ejaculating; 

“ Quick, quick, while there may be time ! ” 

Roure tried to stay her, but she struggled and hissed : 

“ Let me go, I tell you, or he’ll be arrested. In my 
foolish jealousy, I went and denounced him to the Navy 
Office.” 

Roure dropped his hands and his blood left his cheeks 
white as the lamb in the arms of the image of St John 
in childhood, at his back. 

** And you ! ” she screamed in his face, “ are the cause 
of it all with your falsehood. I know him now and see 
what you aimed at and wanted. After you introduced 
that delicious madness into my heart, I know why you 
strove to tear it forth and insert your ugly form in his 
stead. Did you believe it possible ? Could you not see 
what nausea of disgust rose to my lips when you were 
speaking just now ? When my lips said I loved him no 
more, could you not read in my eyes that I loved him 
still ? So I do love him, bear that in mind, and loving 
him, I shall save him.” 

Roure made no further attempt to detain her and she 
bounded out into the street. He turned perplexed to 
the only bystander, muttering •: 

“ Deuce take me if I know what will be the upshot 
of all this ? ” 

Mazan made no remark, for he could not understand 
the situation. 

What have I done ? ” he asked. 

“ What need had we of your sweethearting revelation ? 


82 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


But do not dawdle about now, tor if you do not hurry 
after your pretty Cardelinette, you will lose her, for he 
who has taken her away, has long legs.” 

He said this with so much malignant glee that Mazan 
forgot all respect for him, and grasping him by the 
throat, he set to shaking him so vigorously that the 
words came out of him by jerks. 

‘‘ Run away with Cardeline ? who’s run away with 
Cardeline ? ” he roared. Speak, confound you ! ” 

“ Let go — or — I — I — cannot say a word.” 

“ Quick ! ” 

“ There is a man taking your beloved away by force 
to Algeria in Africa — ” faltered Roure, released and ter- 
rified by this outburst of the lion who had been so long 
in sheepskin. 

Who is he ? and where is he, that I may kill him ! ” 
cried Mazan. 

Oh, if you mean that,” said Roure, there’s the pis- 
tol in that drawer for burglars. Take it — it’s loaded — 
and punish the guilty.” 

Mazan thrust the pistol in the bosom of his coat, 
bounded forth, mounted the hired horse and galloped 
out of the town on the track of Mdlle. Tavernier as if 
all the fiends were after him. His master, rubbing the 
swelling glands of his throat, malevolently stared after 
him and muttered : 

“ If he kills him, no one will be in the secret of 
Madame Roure’s taking off. And I think he will, judg- 
ing by the grip he’s given me.” 

Sitting down to ruminate the matter over, he came to 
a conclusion rapidly. He adjusted his neckcloth and 
delayed only to write and suspend a small placard on 
the knob of the door, which he locked as he left the 
shop to take care of itself. 

Five minutes afterwards, the curious passengers who 
stepped up to the placard, might read : 

Temporary absence of M. Roure and Assistant on 
their weekly visit to deposit Mourning Emblems on the 
Tomb of the late Madame Roure. ‘ Thy will be done ! ’ ” 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


83 


CHAPTER XIV. 

JUDAS REPENTS. 

After the manner of loving couples, Cardeline had 
accompanied her beloved down the road some distance, 
he walking his horse for her convenience. And, after 
he was lost to sight, she remained on the spot, brooding 
over the desperate step of his to obtain her relatives’ 
formal approval of his addresses. 

She feared above all that her cousin, who had turned 
so fiendishly vindictive witlfc>ut any cause, would raise a 
hindrance and ruffle the stream. 

This absence of hers from the house, and, shortly 
after, her presence on the road were remarked by Max- 
imin and his two acolytes. In view of their immediate 
flitting, the fact of the dwelling being unguarded was a 
welcome one. They climbed the wall and spread them- 
selves over the place, ferreting, rummaging, ransacking 
with the rapidity and thoroughness of such creatures of 
rapine. In a few minutes the neat and tidy rooms above 
and below, were each a scene of disorder. The cup- 
boards were gutted and their shelves torn out ; linen 
unfolded and dragged over the floor, littered with house- 
hold odds and ends, mostly shattered. They had even 
delayed to feast and carouse in the main room, knocking 
off the heads of wine bottles and draining them to the 
dregs. 

Maximin, in quest of the treasure dinned into his ears 
by his uncle spite of his incredulity, paid no heed to the 
pranks oLhis subordinates. Having sought thoroughly 
but uselessly, he went out in front of the cottage to 
keep an eye open for comers, and consider how he 
should act towards Cardeline wha had profoundly taken 
his fancy. 

From where he was ambushed behind an oak, he 
could easily hear his rascals smashing glasses and howl- 


84 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


ing in a drunken way a song which did not speak for 
their sense of travelers’ morality. 

The cream of the morning, hostess dear ! 

What have you ready to serve us here ? 

Som’at to drink! 

And som’at to eat, quite up to Dick I 
A chop or steak or a roasted chick — 

What do ye think? ' 

Oh, yes! oh, yes ! but sharp is the cry! 

Bustle about and open your eye ! 

As for the payment, Mad’lon sweet, 

We pay in kisses for grog and meat. 

The hostess up at the^vindow frowns. 

And bids the girls take in the gowns 
All off the line ; 

And lock up the door and let them pass — 

These are but tradesmen — a wicked class ! 

But don’t repine ! 

There’s coming pirates and brigands, too. 

Real gentlemen both who never knew 
To rob landladies with balderdash. 

But pay, though stolen, with solid cash. 

Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! ’tis sharp is the cry ! 

With rogues you need not open ypur eye. 

As for the payment, Mad’lon sweet. 

We pay in dollars for grog and meat. 

By this time, they had scoured the place and left not 
enough to fry a sprat in. There was no liquor left, but, 
luckily, Maximin had filled their bin in the Cloisters for 
a last bout there. 

The young leader met them at the door of the 
garden. 

“ That’s right,” said he, you had better wait for me 
among the ruins.” • 

“ Storm coming on,” returned Palombo thickly, a 
thunder storm.” 

As Palermo’s son, he had a dread of lightning. 

“ Nonsense 1 bad weather is a blessing to men of our 
trade. No custom house officers, convict hunters or 
forest-keepers to fear. We shall go on board our ship as 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


85 


smoothly as the Marseilles citizens going to eat chowder 
at the Chateau d’Of. Still, keep a good look out. 
Garagous, go up the road and signal if this Tavernier 
woman returns, but let her girl pass by.” 

“ Ah ! do you really mean to be burdened by the 
baggage ? ” 

“ Decidedly ! ” 

“ A woman aboard ship ! ” 

“Tut! there are always women aboard Algerian 
pirates.” 

“ Oh, yes, but they’re to be sold.” 

“ And, pray, who told you I am not going to turn an 
honest penny by selling her ? ” replied the young repro- 
bate with a leer of complete cynicism. 

“ What a head you have, master 1 ” cried Palombo. 

“ It’s a magnificent trick,” added Punch, as they 
separated. 

As soon as Cardeline, who had passed Garagous in 
the bushes without suspecting his presence, reached her 
own door, Maximin caught her by the arm. 

“ Come in,” he said, “ don’t be afraid.” 

“ Oh 1 ” she screamed. “ The man in the bay ! the 
man who ” 

She had recognized the murderer of her father, the 
scuttler of the Janna Coeli. 

“What do you say? what do you mean?” he said, 
tightening his hold and flashing fire through his enkind- 
led eyes. 

“ Nothing, nothing,” for she felt that she was utterly 
in the wretch’s power and was increasingly terrified by 
the sight of the room turned topsy turvy. “ Leave me, 
I pray I ” 

“ Not now, at all events, until you explain your out- 
cry. Where have we met before ? ” 

“ What’s been going on here ? ” she faltered, as much 
as anything to elude his line of questioning. 

“ Nothing — your mad cousin smashed things in a fit 
of fury. You see, you cannot live here — that woman 
would kill you one of these days.” 


86 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


I’ll go, then — but where? ” 

“ With me — well out of her reach.” 

“ With you ? ” she cried, but she could not shrink far 
from him. 

“ With me ; I love you, and have sworn to snatch you 
from that demon’s clutches. Don’t turn your head 
aloof, but look at me kindly. Do you not guess that I 
came here for you alone, and that my men have packed 
up all the valuables to start us in housekeeping — or, 
rather, to furnish our cabin on a beautiful ship ! ” 

“ But I do not love you ” 

“ What matters ? ” 

“ I hate — I loathe you ! ” 

“ Pish ! let us flee all the same. Love will spring up 
hereafter. Ah, you shall be happy on the blue and 
sparkling sea ! while here you were a drudge — weeping, 
suffering, emprisoned ! but I will treat you like a little 
queen, and cover you with silk, lace and jewels.” 

“ What ship is this of yours ? ” said Cardeline, fiercely, 
for the grip on her wrist pained and galled her. “ One 
which you intend to sink and kill all the crew of, as you 
did that other in the bay of the Gray Rocks ? ” 

“ What ! do you know ? ” 

“ All, monster ! if I went anywhere with you, it would 
be to the police to denounce you as the murderer of my 
father.” 

“ Zounds since this be so, it gives additional piquancy 
to the dish,” answered Maximin, recovering all his 
audacity. “ I am sorry to vex a lady, but, will she, nill 
she, you must come with me.” 

“ But this is horrible,” screamed Cardeline, struggling 
stoutly. “ I will not ! help, help ! leave me ! murder ! 
thieves ! help ! ” 

Country bred, she was as strong as a little lioness. 
Had she grasped a weapon, she might have beaten him 
off, but, though she had extricated herself, it was only 
whilst he tore down the curtains to make a kind of lasso 
with which he now confidently approached her. 

A shot was heard on the road, and it made the young 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


8 ; 


bandit pause. He expected to hear Garagous give the 
warning whistle, but, in fact, it was Garagous whose 
whistling days were over. He had attempted to stop 
Mazan on the road and Mazan had broken his jaw with 
a pistol shot. The horse stumbled, not being used to 
firearms, but Mazan though thrown, did not feel his 
bruises with the recognizable appeals of his Cardeline 
in his ears. Leaving Garagous to groan in the ditch, he 
ran at full speed into the house. 

It was time. 

Maximin had neatly cast the loop of twisted muslin 
over the girl’s head and shoulders and with one pull 
would have overthrown her or strangled her. So terri- 
fying was the aspect of Mazan, flourishing the still 
smoking pistol, that he retreated, letting go the curtain 
which fell off the girl. At the present pitch of exulta- 
tion, Mazan would have broken the villain’s head with 
the pistol butt with no more compunction than cracking 
an egg, but Cardeline leaped in joy into his arms and 
anchored him to the spot. 

Max reeled back to the door, shouting, whilst he drew 
a long knife : 

“ This way, lads ! Palombo, Garagous ! to me, to 
me!” 

But for the girl, Mazan would have continued the con- 
flict against any odds, but a grain of prudence tempered 
his valor. They were close to the window and this was 
on the ground floor. The two had often taken a greater 
leap when bird's-nesting. He tripled the embrace by 
running his left arm around the girl, and to the amaze- 
ment of Maximin, the pair disappeared out of the window. 

Thunder ! she’s escaped me I ” 

He had no inclination to follow the rescuer too closely, 
but he expected to catch him between two fires — his 
friends’ coming up and his own. He ran to the front 
entrance, but the doorway was choked up by the alarm- 
ing figure of Lise Tavernier. There must have been a 
shower on the road which Mazan had outstripped but 
which had caught her, for she was streaming with wet. 


88 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


She was pale and choking with emotion, but, on seeing 
him, she tried to recover some calmness. 

“ You ! let me pass,” he stammered. 

‘‘ No, no,” she replied, pushing him back, do not 
go ! ” 

Let me pass,” he repeated, testily, or, by the thou- 
sand million of devils ” 

She clung to him with both hands on his arms ; her hair 
had come down in the rain and mantled her shoulders. 

“ No ! wait till I have spoken to you. I have hastened 
to come back, and broken down a horse under me, for 
the river has risen and I was obliged to make a 
circuit.” 

“ Let me pass ! I hear my friend in pain ” 

It was Garagous invoking all the saints and devils in 
his calendar. 

‘‘ What do you want with me ? ” demanded Max, 
unable to shake her off and loth to use the knife. 

“ Save you.” 

He looked around wondering where was the danger, 
for Mazan and Cardeline were not in view. 

The police — the naval officers are on your track,” 
continued Lise. “ Do not go on the road — the gen- 
darmes are lying in wait to capture you at the Point of 
the Golden Isles.” 

‘‘ Ha ! who has betrayed me ? ” he thundered, break- 
ing loose at length. “ Roure ? ” 

“ No ! ” then, after a pause, she answered : “ I ! this 
morning.” 

“You,” he repeated in astonishment. “Why? ” 

“ Because I was jealous.” 

He laughed loudly. 

“Stuff! had we not ended with all that sentimental 
rubbish ? ” 

“ Say what you like,” returned the ex-nun. “ Call 
my love acting and my tears foolery, — I care not, for I 
deserved it and I can bear it. Insult me, beat me — but 
do not leave this shelter. Let me repair the harm I 
have done and designed to do. Remain here a few days 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


89 


in concealment — I have a sure place — besides, they will 
not come after you in the house of the woman who 
betrayed you.” 

“ Denounced me this morning — sheltering me now — 
I can’t understand,” said Maximin. 

“ But I told you I was jealous. I am old enough to 
have outgrown all that, but it has attacked me and it is 
the more severe from coming so late. I was told that 
you did not care for me and that you only accepted me 
because you believed me rich. I was told what you 
were and what you have done. I know the story of 
your having sunk a ship and joined hands with ruffians 
with whom you carouse in the Cloisters. But I 
pardoned you all this, and would even have pardoned 
your going away from me, as you did not love me. 
But when I heard that you loved another — Cardeline, 
above all, who was under my wing, and so near to me, 
and that I served, perhaps, only as foil to a younger and 
a fairer — then my head spun, and I felt a whirlwind of 
fire sweep me away and onward. I betrayed you.” 

“ Anything more ? ” 

Can’t you think what was my desperation when I 
understood how I had been deceived ? ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

She explained about the letter of Cardeline’s which 
Roure had put into her hand with the hope of her 
taking it to be for Maximin ; and how chance had enabled 
her to see the whole plot clearly. Little did she dream 
that, had she not been delayed so that Mazan had 
arrived before her, she might have surprised Max at the 
feet of the young girl. Even now, for all she knew, her 
rival had been carried off to a rendezvous whither her 
lover wished to hasten. 

“ Have you done ? ” he said, with suppressed impa- 
tience. “ If so, step aside. Your Cardeline and her 
sweetheart have gone off together. But I shall find 
them ! ” 

“ Maximin, you must not stir a step now. Do you 
forget that I have told the authorities all your career.” 


90 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


“ But, miserable woman, if jealousy set you on to 
hound them against me, why do you stand in their way ? 
Are you no longer spiteful ? ” 

“ No. It is over — lovely dream ! the flame is extinct, 
and blow on it as you will, it will spring up never again. 
What has befallen me is a judgment from above. I had 
given myself as a bride to heaven, and I had no right to 
retract my gift. This first crime led me on to commit 
others, the greatest of all being love for you — a crime 
that carried its own penalty with it. Yes, it was to 
punish me that I was made to love you, when my bloom 
was fading and my face was sad. Hopeless love is the 
sharpest suffering that can be inflicted upon a woman, 
and I have been tortured by it since yesterday. But 
never mind! I am resigned to my fate. You have 
occasioned me pain, and will yet cause me more, but I 
shall murmur not, accepting all, ready for all and bowed 
to the rod. One thing alone I beg — in a moment of 
madness, I wished your death and ruin. Npw let me 
save you.” 

Maximin had listened rather to external sounds than 
to her long confession, but Garagous had ceased his 
groans and Palombo did not sound the signal. Frank 
as was the confession and earnest, even impassioned her 
tone, the young man had learnt prudence of late. Might 
she not have one of the golden tongues of Roure’s 
description ? She who had betrayed him once, might 
play the Delilah again. He reproached her in this vein, 
mocked at her pretty speeches and taunted her with a 
fresh plot. 

“ I have no wit for your cunning, but I have instinct 
like a hunting dog, and that tells me I am in a trap 
here.” 

She cowered and hid her burning face in her hands. 
Doubt and reproach were all her reward for the hot and 
dangerous ride to save him, for few men care or dare to 
cross the Sorgue in a thunderstorm. Tears trickled 
through her fingers — real ones. 

The sound of a scuffle without attracted Maximin to 


LISE TAVEENIER. 


91 


the window, for the ex*nun yet defended the door. What 
he saw in a glimpse made him utter an oath and leap to 
the door, shooting both bolts and swinging the bar into 
place. 

A group of gendarmes were on the roadway. On a 
litter was the body of Garagous, the visage pale, all save 
the unconquerable red nose. Between two soldiers, 
with one eye eclipsed by a bandage, stood Signor 
Palombo. An officer and a civil official approached the 
door leisurely, but at the same momenta sonorous voice 
under the side window, shouted : 

“ Surrender, in the name of the law ! ” 

“ Merciful powers ! ” said Lise Tavernier, falling on 
her knees and clasping her hands. 

“Open, in the name of the law ! ” called out another 
stentor at the front. 

“ Surrounded ! my mates dead or ^ nabbed ’ ! lam 
done for ! ” muttered Maximin. “ But, at least, you shall 
pay for this ! ” 

Lise did not offer to guard herself from the uplifted 
knife. 

“Yes, kill me ! it will come sweet from your hand,” 
sighed the woman. “ But, first, let me save you.” 

“ Save me, now? ” 

“ At the latest, yes ! Lift up the hearthstone — it will 
rise if a man applies his strength ! for I alone, in a time of 
less weakness, have moved it.” 

“ Well ? it moves ! ” 

“ Up with it. There is the real treasure of the Ursu- 
lines. Down there, in troubulous times, we were wont 
to carry the convent riches. The other way out is by 
an iron door, to which I carry the keys, and thereby I 
shall come to release you.” 

“ The treasure ! that looks better.” 

“ Here is the tinder-box and candles — there is wine in 
a cask there — and here is a loaf— go I ” 

Maximin took the articles and slowly lowered the slab 
upon his head. Lise smiled her thanks, for this proof of 
confidence, and, after sweeping some ashes upon the 


92 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


Stone, leisurely undid the fastenings of the door. At 
the same time the heads of two or three soldiers and 
the muzzles of their muskets appeared at the window. 

In a moment the room was invaded. 

Nobody here ! ” cried the magistrate. 

“ Nobody but the Disfrocked Nun, Monsieur.” 

“ Yes,’’ said Lise, quickly, “ the Disfrocked Nun, who 
is in her own house and wants to know by what right 
you besiege her and compel admittance. Under pre- 
text of doing justice, I dare say! What do you seek? 
a deserter ? there are none here, and least of all this one, 
because I went myself to the mayor’s office to denounce 
him.” 

That is true,” said the brigadier of gendarmes. 

“ But she has hidden him somewhere all the same,” 
objected the commissary of police, who had had more 
experience with the sex and considered them fickle. 
“ This whimpering Italian says he was in here and con- 
firms the woman’s denunciation. Search the house, you 
others I ” 

As Mdlle. Tavernier continued to expostulate and 
even to resist the soldiers when, as they say in the chil- 
dren’s game, they became ‘‘ warm,” she . was finally put 
in a kind of straight waistcoat, composed of a leather 
apron and the clothes line, and left in a corner while 
the fruitless examination went on. That search having 
led them out of the cottage into the ruins, they forgot 
her and she might not have been liberated until morn- 
ing had not an incident supervened. 

CHAPTER XV. 

ROURE ENJOYS THE TREASURE. 

Of all the persons concerned in the last imbroglio, 
good M. Roure not the least experienced tribulation. 
But it is the nature of these lovers of legalized craft, to 
fish in troubled waters. Although everything counselled 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


93 


his keeping tranquilly aloof from the conflicting tracks 
of Cardeline and his clerk and Lise and his nephew, he 
must needs go out to the Cloisters after dark. Still the 
ignis fatuus of the Ursulines’ treasure gleamed before 
him. 

In the gathering gloom, it was despiriting to come upon 
Mazan’s borrowed horse with a broken neck in a ditch, 
with blood spots at another place where Garagous had 
been shot. Then again, a trampled hole in the under- 
wood showed where Palombo had been mastered in the 
struggle, and the roads,wet with rain, bore many imprints 
of the feet of the combined civil and military forces. 

Nevertheless all was as quiet in the cottage and gar- 
den as in the Cloisters where the authorities had com- 
pleted the resultless search for the fugitive. Roure ven- 
tured to ascend the ladder which the gendarmes had set 
up against the side window and omitted to remove. He 
looked into the disordered chamber, which he did not 
believe occupied, but on carefully stepping inside, he 
perceived that what he had taken for a bundle of clothes 
was his customer, Mdlle. Tavernier. 

She was insensible, exhausted by so much excitement 
and exertion, but on his softly tapping heron the shoul- 
der and calling her by name, she roused herself slowly, 
lifted her head and recognized him. Without releasing 
her, he listened to her account of what had happened, 
and expressed his gladness that his nephew had escaped. 

“ As far as I can make oi3t,” he said, “ he has got out 
into the ruins by your assistance, but he cannot 
get out of the country as easily. That ship in which 
he counted on sailing, was beaten off the Golden Isles 
and everybody is on the alert to capture him that he 
maybe tried with his confederates.” 

Then he is lost ! ” 

“Yet you might save him.” 

“ How I I would give my blood, my life, my soul to 
do that ! ” 

“ Good,” said Roure, “ less than that will suffice, or 
more. A good bit of gold ! Gold will blind all police- 


94 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


men, choke the muzzle of all guns, entangle all * on- 
sciences, break all chains. Give me gold enough and 
in a week you shall hear that Max is in Africa.” 

“ I have no gold,” she answered, with a return of the 
caution which the rogue at last inspired in her. 

“ Then his sentence is as good as delivered. Poor 
Max ! one of the Roures will have been guillotined for 
ship-sinking and wholesale butchery — alas ! ” 

Again, the demon was tempting her. After all, there 
was enough in the coffers for both the Roures. 

“ Stay ! release me, and you shall have the where- 
withal to help him away and repay yourself” 

“ Help him away ! ah, is he here ? — perhaps sleeping 
on the heap of gold.” 

It is useless to him unless he can corhe forth.” 

“ Ah ! it is clear now ! you have buried the poor boy 
in the Cloisters beside the treasure ! Capital ! and Uncle 
Roure will have his share if he — as he alone can do — 
enables him to quit the country. The secret of the 
hiding place, then ! I will go and release him.” 

‘‘ Release me first ! none else can open the iron 
door ” 

“ Ha, an iron door ! ” 

“A secret one, set in the wall and is immovable. It 
opens from without — no other way, by a key which ” 

“ Hangs at your girdle ? I know, I know ! If you 
will not tell me all, so much the worse for Max ! but I 
shall find the door and the hoard though it takes hours 
— days ” 

“ Days ? ” she said, piteously. 

“ I know that you will regret your obstinacy, for Car- 
deline will not, for one, come out here to feed you ! and 
poor Max will gnaw the flesh off his arms in the under- 
ground ! but, bah ! Uncle Roure will have all the gold 
to himself, then ! ” 

So saying he untied the bunch of rings from her 
waist-belt. 

“ You won’t help me in my task, eh ? ” 

“Yes, the door is under the broken statue of the 


LISE TAVERNIER, 


95 


Wi'^? Virgin — you’ll know it by one hand holding the 
lamp up — in the corridor wher6 the currant tree grows 
out of the wall ” 

‘‘‘ I shall find it ! ” cried Roure triumphantly. “ The 
clearer your indications, the sooner I shall return to set 
you free. Wish me well, Lise!” 

Never had he felt so buoyant and vigorous. The pros- 
pect of the treasure being his — for he had already made 
up his mind to share it with nobody — emboldened 
him. He went into the ruins through the garden door, 
which the soldiers had left open, without a tremor. 
All the spectres of all the nuns could not have barred 
his passage for an instant to-night. There was a glim- 
mer in the woods on the^ road at the back of the 
Cloisters, very likely a fire of the gendarmes who were 
left to watch till morning, but he heeded it not at all. 

Alas ! bushes had sprouted on many a wall, and he 
was a long while finding the statue in question in the 
gallery of such images. All the sounds he heard were 
the scampering of vermin, much harrassed by the 
important intrusion of the searchers, and the insidious 
infiltration of water from the overflowing torrent which 
entered the subterraneans at a thousand pores. 

Beneath the guiding sculpture he could not see the 
door and he began to believe he had been misled. 

But all at once a golden flash lit on his eyes, 
though it was gone in an instant. A reflection of the 
gold ? 

No, it’s Max ! he has a light — which I am impru- 
dently without — and he is piling up the gold — my 
gold, to take it away I ” 

The door was here, then. He drew a clasp-knife and 
with the opened blade stabbed at the apparently solid 
wall until the point met iron. Next came the work of 
finding the proper key out of a score, but that was not 
onerous or long in his itching hands. 

When he suddenly unlocked and opened the door, he 
had a fleeting glimpse of a large, low vault, with shad- 
owy niches, some of them walled up as if, according to 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


96 

tradition, delinquent vestals were immured in them; a 
flickering light and a man holding in both arms a mass of 
gold and silver vessels. 

But the abrupt opening of the secret door alarmed 
this latter dweller in the tombs, for he stumbled in 
stopping, and the light went out with a crash of the 
fallen metal. That glimpse sufficed to make Roure 
start forward under the small doorway. Impelled by 
spring hinges, the iron door swung round, and gently 
but irresistibly pushed the church furnisher forward and 
closed with a snap. 

He did not observe this in the dazzlement of that 
vision of wealth. 

“ Halloa ! eh, my nephew ! ” he cried out ; “ light up 
again ! A thousand gods ! I am thirsty again to see such 
a show ! ” 

You don’t say so, uncle of mine,” returned the 
taunting voice in the obscurity. “ Let me tell you that 
you are not going to have again even a reflection of that 
gold.” 

“ No, indeed,” grumbled Roure, fumbling in his 
pockets for his flint and steel box. 

” Hearken to me, uncle. Here is the treasure of 
those nuns, which decidedly exists, It has been put 
into my hands, and your blundering in does not entitle 
you to a scrap after the first finder. You have let the 
iron door close behind you, which, I was told, can 
only be opened from without. The entrance by which 
I came cannot be found by you, and so, as I shall not 
show a light, you will only knock your brains out 
against some nasty stone edge, in which these cata- 
combs abound. You have had the best of the game 
so far, but this is the winning rubber and I shall, 
when I get out, leave you here to go to sleep eternal 
in the nook whence I remove my riches.” 

What a nephew ! 

“ But, my little Max, I do not want to carry away 
anything. I came here purely to do you the service of 
seeing you through the cordon of gendarmerie, police and 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


97 


marines. But we cannot see clearly without a light — 
strike up one.” 

“ Come nearer ! ” 

“ Without a light ? ” 

“ Go towards my voice,” said Maximiff, sternly. 

‘‘ To fall into some pit-hole — thank you ! ” 

“What are you delaying for?” asked Maximin 
twice. 

Roure, groping with one foot thrust forth, had 
touched an object for which he stooped. It was a 
chalice in gold, as a delicate tap to make it ring with 
his thumb nail revealed, and set with a garland of rubies 
which flowed fresh and cool under his hand. By the 
weight it was massy. What a glorious sample of the 
chef d’oeuvres of ecclesiastical jewels on which his worth- 
less kinsman had unreservedly seized ! 

Oh, for a light to admire the shape and chasing ! 

‘'Come on, I bid you!” cried the young man in a 
milder voice. “ Look out for three steps leading up to 
a prostrated altar, go round them — and I am at your 
hand.” 

“ I am coming, — I am^ at the steps — I- — ah ! ” 

He had walked into a well-hole, but, luckily, the 
overhead iron open work which sustained the long 
ago rotted rope remained intact and when the man 
instinctively threw up his hands, he caught the convo- 
lutions and hung to them with tenacity. 

Whilst dangling thus, Maximin bent forward over the 
orifice — which he knew by having seen it by the light — 
listening for the splash, whereupon Roure, lowering 
his feet, to feel for support, fell on him in the position 
of the Old Man of the Sea upon the sailor’s shoulders. 

The shock made the young man stagger and Roure 
followed up the advantage by seizing his hair. The 
two rolled on the stones at the brink of the well, 
where the church furnisher, feeling a sort of mace 
meet his hand, snatched it up and struck at his antag- 
onist. It was the head of a crozier and Maximin 


98 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


measured his length as if felled by the back of a 
woodman’s axe. 

“ You were quite enough of a burden to me in life,” 
said the victor, searching the palpitating body for the 
tinder-box without avail. “ Annoy me no more ! ” 

With which he spurned the breathing body into the 
well where it sent up a splash so quickly that it proved 
the watery surface could not be far. 

The treasure of the Ursulines is mine,” muttered 
Roure, but a twinge seized him as his fingers stuck with 
a coagulating fluid. The gold has intoxicated me and 
made me forget my code. Bah ! now to work ! the box 
of lights must be somewhere nigh.” 

For safety’s sake, he went dqwn on his hands and ; 
knees and groped in all directions. To his joy he ’ 
found the flint, and, striking sparks out of the nearest 
stone, kindled a piece of lining torn from his coat 
sleeve. With this glow he discerned the candle, and 
soon illuminated the treasure-chamber of the Sisters. 

The vault was a hall like that anciently overhead, 
but not so high. The hoard had been hidden in an 
alcove, which Lise Tavernier had broken open when, ' 
after twenty years proudly living in poverty beside so 
much riches, she had returned alone, without veil and 
rosary, furtively as a thief and pale as the sacreligious 
mortal should be, to invade the charnel house of the 
abbesses of her order. Hunger had tempted her at 
the first, then duty to Cardeline as her charge, then i 
passion and its delirium. Lastly, she had imparted j 
the secret to the evil-doer, and all had turned 'to the \ 
profit of Roure. \ 

He forgot all else, as he sat on a stone, surrounded 1 
by the vessels in gold and silver, the cups, vases, \ 
salvers, chargers, solid and plain, chased elaborately, ^ 
smooth and studded, weighing them and valuing them i 
enwrapt as if in his own back parlor. 

He did not hear the slight sound which alone dis- 
turbed the ponderous stillness and did not see that the 
torrent, overflowing and communicating with the well, 


LISE TAVERNIER. 


99 


gradually filled it. The battered face of the corpse at 
length appeared on the level, and then the body insensi- 
bly floated on* the spreading pool which covered the 
slimy slabs. Still the gold-maniac counted the valuables, 
and even when the water first laved his shoes, merely 
drew them back as from a temporary inconvenience. 

Never before' had so many inches of rain fallen in 
that clime; never had the torrent overflowed so 
generously. 

With the luxuriance of Southern vegetation, weed and 
briar mantle the ruins of the Cloisters and of La Taver- 
nier’s abandoned cottage. 

On Sundays and the grander holidays, Mazan Brise- 
baure, who carries on the business of the missing M. 
Roure for the creditors to their entire satisfaction, and 
his wife Cardeline go out of the town for the al fresco 
repast, beloved of the citizen, and they are accompanied 
by an aged woman in black but with a happy face who 
will allow nobody else to be bonne to the children. 
People say that it was “ impious ” to allow a disfrocked 
nun to enter a Christian family and that there’s no 
trusting persons who rise from a long imprisoning fever 
bed with their brain impaired, but the Brisebaures have 
a higher faith and the little ones have no more fear of 
Aunt Lise,” than of old Brunette, who has become the 
model of mules. The blight to Mdlle. Tavernier’s 
reason keeps her happy, and when her eyes glance in 
the direction of the Cloisters not a scintillation gleams 
in them of remembrance of the covetous church furnisher 
or his villainous nephew, whose bones moulder in the 
mud, intermingled with the treasure of the Ursulines. 


THE END. 


THE ARUNDEL LIBRARY. 

^ood Books by the Best Authors, Bach book is complete 

and unabridged, 

PJIICE, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH. 

Sent to any address on receipt of price. 

By Sir Wai.teb 


1 I>ACtor Rameati, or tli« Double 

Wrongr. From the French of 
Georges Ohuet. A remarkable story. 
Intense, passionate, thoughtful, and 
profound. A most powerful and dra- 
matic work. 

2 Lady Andley’s Secret. By Mias M. 

E. Braddon. Tlie masterpiece of this 
talented novelist. 

5 Camille, or the T^ate of a Co- 

quette. By Alexander Dumas. 

4 Character Sketches. By Dicivens. 

B The Texar's Reveng’e, or IS’orth 
ag’ainst South. A powerfully 
written story relating to the great 
civil war. By Jules Verne 

6 The Strangre Case of Dr. Jekyll 

and Mr. lEIyde. By It. L. Steven- 
son. 

7 The Dv'ath of Ivan Iliitch. By 

Count Lyop T<5LStoi. A good example 
of the style of this popular Russian 
writer. 

8 A Terrible Temptation. A story 

of the day. By Charles Keade.. 

9 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Eug'by. By Thomas Hughes. A 
book which increases daily in i)opu- 
larity. 

JO The Sketch Book. By Washington 
Irving. An American classic. 

11 The Last of the Mohicans. A 

narrative of 1757. By Cooper 

12 Anne G-rey. A novel, by the author 

of Jane Shore. Extremely fascinat- 
ing and thrilling. 

13 The Widow Bedott Papers. By 

Frances M. Whitcheu 

14 Knickerbocker’s History of Hew 

York. By Washington Irving. 

J5 My Husband and I. By Count 
Lyof Tolstoi. A charming example 
of Russian fiction. 

J6 Dora Thorne. By Bertha M. Clay. 

17 Jack of all Trades. A matter of 

fact romance ; and Autobiogfraphy 
of a thief, By Charles Re.vde. 

18 Grandfather’s Chair. A history for 

youth. By N.athaniel Hawthorne, 

19 The Cloister and the Hearth, cr 

Maid, Wife and Widow. By 
Charles Reade. 

20 Mr. and Mrs. Spoopendyke. By 

Stanley HuntlRy. These are the 
celebrated Spoopendyke Papers, which 
for exquisite humor aud sparkling 
wit have never been equaled. 

21 David Copperfield. By Charles 

22 Hot like other Girls. By Rosa N. 

Cabex. a sweet, dainty, wholesome 
story. It receives the popularity it 

4«S^Mk 


23 Ivanhoe. A romance. 

Scott. 

24 Kenilworth. A ronaance. By Sir 

Waltepv Scott. 

25 Hambies from Hussia to Spain, 

or Out-Door Life in Europe, 

being an account of seven suminei’s 
abroad. Bv Rev. Edward P. Thwing, 
M.D., P.H.b. 

26 Pickwick. The Posthumous Papers 

of the I rckwick Club. By Charles 
Dickens. 

27 Esther. A story for girls. By Rosa N. 

Carey. A touching liome tale, with a 
mixture of wholesome and hearty 
humor. 

28 Charlotte Temple. A tale of truth. 

By Mrs. ROwbon. 

29 Thi?\ Plying" Dutchman, or the 

Death Ship. By W. Clark Rus- 
sell. A weird, seusatioual story of 
the sea, told by a master hand, 

30 Nicholas Hickleby, the Life and Ad- 

ventures of. By Charles Dickens. 

31 Guilderoy. A novel. By “Ouida.’ It 

contains all the features which have 
made the woi’ks of this voliimiucus 
author so widely read. 

32 The Pride of the Paddock. A tale of 

the times. By Capt. Hawley Smart. 

33 Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens. 

34 Aunt Diana. By Rosa N. Carey. A 

perfectly charming story. 

35 The Old Curiosity Sbop. Ey 

Charles Dickens. 

36 The Passeiig'er from Scotland 

Yard. By 11. F. W’ood. A very clever 
detective story. 

37 Dombey & Son. By Charles Dickens 

38 Gtiy Mannering",©!' the Astrologer 

By Sir Walter Scott. 

39 Twice Told Tales. By Nathaniel 

Hawthorne. 

40 The Antiquary. A romance. By Sir 

Walter Scott. 

41 Bootle’s Children. By John Strange 

Winter. The pen of the author of 
“Bootle's Baby” will always command 
attention. 

42 Hob Boy. A romance. By Sir Walter 

Scott. 

43 The Bride of Lammermoor. A ro- 

mance. By Sir Wai.teb Scott. 

44 Mona’s Choice. A novel. By Mrs. Ai> 

EXANDEB. 

45 The Heart of Midlothian. A ro- 

mance. By Sib Walter Scott. 

46 The Travels and Surprising Ad«: 

ventures of Baroh Muuchauses« 

47 Great Expectations. By Dickens. 

48 The Honorable Mrs. Vereker. ^ 

The Duchess. A new society novel ^ 
this fasciuatiufc wviJtvF- 


THE ARUNDEL LIBRARY. 


Good Books by the Best Authors* Each hook is complete 

and unabridged. 


PRICE, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH. 

to any address on receipt of price. 


49 Woodstock, or the Cavalier. Aro* 
■ mance. By Sm Walter Scott. 

60 Waverley, or ’Tis Sixty Years 
Since. By Sir Walter Scott. 

; 61 The Monastery. A romance. By Sir 
Walter Scott. 

^62 Chris. By W. E. Norris. The author cf 
; “ A Bachelor’s Blunder” still demon- 

; strates that his right hand has not 
forgot its cunning. 

i 63 The Ahhott, A romance. 'By Scott. 

64 Betsy Jane Ward (better half to Arte- 
mus), Hur hook of goaks with a hull 
‘ akkownt of the coartship and mari- 
[ dge to afsaid Artemus, An intensely 
humorous book. 


55 The Pirate, A- romance. BySinWAi.* 

TER Scott. 

56 Old Mortality. A romance. By Sir 

Walter Scott. 

57 Paul and Virg’inia. By BERKARDiisf 

DE Saint Pierre. A famous story 
which has become a classic. 

58 Red Ganntlet. A tale of the 18th oen> 
I tury. By Sir Walter Scott. 

59 The Tale of Three Iiions and on 

Going" Back. By H. Rider Haggard. 
And The Cabin Boy. A tale of the 
wide ocean . By Cart. L. C. Kinc 3" 

TON. ‘ 

60 The Devil’s Die, By Grant Allen, 

A very powerful novel. 


THE FOLLOWING- POPULAR NOVELS ARE ISSUED IN OUR 

COSMOPOLITAN SERIES. 

PRICE, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH. 

EACH BOOK UNABlilDGED ANB UNCHANGED. 


Cleopatra. Being an account of the fall 
and vengeance of Harmachis (the 
^ Royal Egyptian) as set forth by his 
■ own hand. By H. Rider Haggard. 
Derrick Vaug'han— N ovelist. By Edna 
Lyall, 

I The Piccadilly Puzzle. By Fergus W. 
Hume. A detective story, rivalling 
in interest the author's former sur- 
f prise. “ Mystery of a Hansom Cab.’ - 
A Crooked Path. By Mrs. Alexander. 
A new novel by this famous writer, 
equal, and in many respects surpass- 
ing any of her former efforts. 
Marooned. By W. Clark Russell. This 
Captain Marryat of our day has here 
given us a most delightful sea ro- 
mance — breezy and romantic. 

The Pog* Princes. A Romance of the Dark 
' Metropolis. By Florence Warden. 

f Merle’s Crusade. By Rosa Nouchette 
Carey. A delightful domestic story, 
i written in this charming writer’s best 
! vein. 

<The King' in His Beauty, and other 
Studies in Scripture. By Prof. 
Edward P. Thwing, author of 
' “Rambles from Russia to Spain,” 

, etc., etc. It has been said of Prop, 

Thwing that “with rare facility and 
felicity of expression he possesses 
the power to interest, amuse and 
Instruct In an eminent degree,” and 
this work exemplifies this power in a 
remarkable degree. 

Sweet Lavender. Founded under spec- 
ial permission on the celebrated play. 
By A. W. Pinero, 


The Counterfeiters of The Cuya- 
hog'a. A Buckeye Romance. By 
Thomas Holcomb, 

Grimm’s Pairy Tales. A new illustrated 
edition of these famous stories. 
Handy Andy. A Tale of Irish Life. By 
Samuel Lover. 

Hypatia^ or Hew Poes with an Old 
Pace. By Charles Kingsley. 

A Troublesome Girl. A new story. 
By “The Duchess.” 

Salathiel, The Wandefing' Jew. A 

story of the Past, the Present, and the 
Future. By George Croly. Fully 
equal to “Ben Hur” iu power and 
interest. It stands alone in its .splen- 
dor of diction and descriptive im- 
agery. Part I. 

Salathiel, The Wandering Jew. 

Part II. 

Blizabeth, or The Exiles of Siberia. 

A tale founded on Facts from the 
French of Madame Cottin. 

Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain Lectures. 

By Douglas Jereold. These famous 
lectures are reprinted entire as they 
originally appeared in the London 
Punch. 

Bede’s Charity. By Hesba Strett^n. 

• A well-told simple i)athetic story by 
this sweet Christian writer. 

A Hardy Horseman. By Edna Lyall. 
This popular and talented authors 
latest work. 

The Master of Ballantrae. AWinter’s 

Tale. By Robert Louis Stevenson. 


HURST A UO*, FwbUshers, 1:^:^ SI., IV. 


17 Vols. fn Three. 8to, Cloth. Illustrated. 


NEWTON FOSTER. Gives a clearer idea of a seaman’s existence than a voyage 
around the Horn. Neither terrible nor merry adventures are omitted. Indeed 
one passes from the cabin to the fo’castle as in real liie. 

MIDSHIPMAN EAST. This writer never wrote a dull book. Marryat was every 
inch a sailor — ^knew a sailor’s every foible, every whim, and has painted them 
to the life. 

PETER SIMPLE. About the best sea story in the language. Thousands have 
laughed till the tears came, at the locker full of fun that the Captain opens for 
all — pewder-monkey or middy alike. 

PACHA OF MANY TALES. The many tales will be found equal to one another, 
and all excellent, and never tedious in length. Yet are they never, “like the 
cur’s continuation,” cut oif too close to the ears. 

THE PIRATE AND THE THREE CUTTERS. All kinds of visions arise before the 
reader’s eyes — frowning men, clambering aboard contested craft; shots ex- 
changed; cutlasses clashing — in short, a fierce encounter with the crew of th<!i 
ship assailed. 

THE KING’S OWN. Here we have unalloyed enjoyment — the sea breeze, the ex 
citing episodes, the novel, interesting sights, scenes and peraons, without the 
discomforts attending them. Most admiramy has the author blended lights 
and shades in this great romance. 

JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. No writer has risen worthy to wield Mar- 
ryat’s unrivalled pen. No reader ever regrets having started out with Japhet 
in his long, long, laborious ^ saroh. . . 

SNAlHLiEYOAV, THE DOG FIEt 1>, “ Snarleyow ” will have been found guilty of 

making Daniel Lamberts of the human race. The person who has not yet 
perused this book has “ a high old time ” in store for him. 

JACOB FAITHFUL. Marryat knew every strand in a sailor’s life, and there has 
never been one so able in portraying. Blow high or blow low, the Captain 
is “ always on deck.” 

FRANK MILDMAY. Perhaps in no other work does Marryat better evince his 
Avonderful power than he does in “Frank Mildmay.” Whether “running 
under bare poles” or “carrying every stitch of canvas,” none can beat the 
“Cap.” 

PERCIVAL KEENE. This writer knew every craft that ever floated, with a no less 
thorough knowledge of every wish, hope, fear that ever luilsated in a true heart. 
This has made Marryat the best nautical novelist that ever lived. 

PHANTOM SHIP. If anybody knows more about “ Wizard Skift's,” and “Flying 
Dutchmen” than Marryat “runs off” in this book, he can take our tarpaulin 
and the last “ chaw ” of Lorillard we haye in the locker. 

RATLIN, THE REEFER. The happiest days of our existence were when we were 
“laying off ” in the foretop of old “Ironsides,” reading this charming book to 
our all-delighted messmates. 

THE POACHER. In this book Marryat proves that he could write equally as 
well of “shore ’’life ; of a “life on the ocean wave.” The adventures of 
Joseph llushbrook are • affecting. 

POOR JACK. The life his -y of this little sea-side waif is one ot the most truth- 
ful narratives of the troubles and trials of a sailor-boy’s cruise that has ever 
been entered in the log-book of life. 

MASTER5IAN READY; Ob, The Wreck of the Pacifio. A book of wrecks, and 
coral isles, and orange groves, of dusky maids in the ocean billows, and of half- 
wild runaway sailor boys. 

VALERIE. Evidently written by Marryat to show that he was eqAially at home 
on the land as on the sea. Powerful and tender scenes dramatically portrayed 
and contrasted. 

Complete in Three Large 8vo. Volumes, finely illustrated and bound in best 
English cloth. PRICE, $5.00. 

Address, HURST & CO., Pulilishers, 122 Nassau St.,N.Y» 


POPULAR FICTION 

COMPRISING THE 

Recegnized Masterpieces of tlie Great Novelists of the World. 

IN TWO VOLUM ES. 

TOls'ErMS ©ISTH ©OIWAIHS8 

THE AKABI VIV WIGHT’S EWTERTAIWMEWT, 

consisting of one thousand and one stofies, told by the Sultaness 
of the Indies, to divert the Sultan from the execution of a bloody 
vow he had made to marry a lady every day, and have her put to 
death next morning, to avenge himself for the disloyalty of his 
first Sultaness. Containing a familiar account of the customs, 
manners, and religion of the Eastern Nations, the Tartars, 
Persians, Indians, Etc. Embellished with numerous engravings. 

THE LIFE AMH AHVEMTERES OF ROBI^SO^ 

CRUSOE. By Daniel De Foe. 

AFTER HARK IIV ROSTOX. A Working Girl’s Faith and 
Fate. By J. 0. Kaler. 

EIEIAX HAEZEEE. By the author of “ Unclaimed.” 

THE CHI EH B EX OF THE ARRET. A Tale. By 

Regina Maria Roche. 

THE ROHAXCE OF THE FOREST. Interspersed 
with some pieces of poetry. *By Mrs. RADCLirEE, Authoress of 
“ A Sicilian Romance,” Etc., Etc. 

€1RIF ; OP WORTH VERSUS WEAUTH. Aa Aus- 
tralian Story. By B. L. Farjeon. 

THE-RIVAJL AHVEXTURERS; or, THE HYS- 

TERIES OF THE MIxXES. A Romance of California. 
By Frederick Gerstaecker, Author of “ The Pirates of the kliss-, 
issippi,” “ The Regulators of Arkansas,” Etc. 

A TERRaOUE TEHFTATIOX. A story of to-day. By 
Charles Eeade. Author of “Foul Play,” “Griffith GauntJ* 
“Put Yourself in His Place,” Etc. 

THE W AXI5ERIXG HEIRESS. A Romance. By Mrs. 
M. E. Braddon. 

HIOH AXH UOW; or. THE PAIXS AXH PUEAS- 
URES OF A lAFE. By F. H. Keppel, Author of “ Con- 
trast; or, the Oak and the Bramble.” i 

The above choice works are illustrated with numerous well ex-- 
ecuted engravings, and well bound in two large 8vo. volumes, contain- 
ing about 1,500 pages. Price per Set, $3. 

Address, HURST & CO., Publisliers, 122 Nassa« St., N, Tt 


SIR EDWARD LITTON 


(Lord Lytton.) 



■ It is almost superfluous to say a word in praise of the prince of novelists. He 
holds an undivided sceptre over the mind of every intelligent reader. For skillful 
plots, fine discrimination of character, and jiowerful delineation of passion, he has 
no equal. Time flies, and in his course sweeps doAvn the budding as well as the 
matured fruits of other authors — but his keen scythe leaves the productions of 
Bulwer as fresh and lovely as when he first gladdened the eyes of his read'crs with 
their manifold excellences. 


RIENZI. This glorious Republican treads amid the broken pillars of the antique 
forum, and rouses his fallen countrymen. In this great book Bulwer admir- 
ably blends the old heroic souls of the ancient Roman with the picturesque, 
and perhaps more loveable, personages of early Italy. 

PELHAM: or, THE ADVEMUKES of a GENTLEMAN. Bulwer gives us an insight 
into the fashionable phase of London Society, and makes us acquainted with 
the real “higher classes.” 

PALL CLIFFORD. It takes nothing from the interest of this great story to know 
that many of its incidents are true to life. It show's that vice in its most capti- 
vating form but leads to destruction. 

EUGENE ARAM. Stripped of all embellishment, this is the most woful tale that 
ever was truly told; but, told as Bulw'er has narrated it, it would bring tears 
from any eyes, “how’ver unused to the melting mood.” 

THE DISOWNED. No story was ever more full of striking incidents, or of more 
deeply mxfe characters. Truly a great novel; a novel, indeed, that has no supe- 
rior among books of its class. 

FALKLAND. Full of the tenderness of Petrarch and the ardor of Abelard. Unlike 
any other w'ork by him, it is still full of genius. It is out of the fulness of the 
heart that the mouth pours forth its eloquence. 

In same volume; 

PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE. Every reviewer has eulogized this charming volume. 
Those who intend travelling on the blue stream that mirrors Bingen on its 
bosom should read this book. 

LAST DATS OF POMPEII. It required the highest genius to fitly describe the 
terrible overwhelming of this city. The blind girl, Nidia, has furnished themes 
for playwrights, painters and sculptors. 

THE STUDENT. The thoughtful devotee of science is most poetically depicted. 
The interesting scholar, w'lth his face “sicklied o’er with the pale cast of 
thought,” is a noble character. 

DEVEEEUX. Even Biahver cannot hope to surpass this story. It seems perfec- 
•hon in every particular. We can recall the name of no modern book that has 
aken such a firm hold on popularity. 

Ten Vols. bound in One Large 8vo. Cloth, gilt. PRICE, 

Sent by mail to any address, post«paidl» 


Addreu, HDRST & CO., Pul)U»lier», 122 




Thefte valuable little maainaiul contain the very cream of the subJeclA discussed 
.111 superfiuouft verbosity is discarded, but the information is siven in plain, clears 
and pointed lanjfuaffc. Special care has been taken to make them as concise an 
possible without marring the sense. Price 10 cents each. 


TRU^ POLITENESS.- A handbook 
of etiquette for ladiea. By an American lady. 

TRUE POUTENESS.-Ahandbook 

ol etiquette tor gentlemen. By an American 
gentleman. 

LADIES’ WORKBOX COMPANtON. 

A handbook of knitting, netting, tatting, and 
Berlin work. Coijitaining entirely new directions. 

^ A Eandboo 


FIRESIDE CO !VI PAN ION. 

>uk of games for evening amusement. 

CHESSPLAYERS’ HANDBOOK. 

Contaiuiug a full account ot the game ot chess, 
and the best mode of playing it. 

HANDBOOK OF CONVERSATION 

AND TABLE-TALK. 

P. CROCHET H^ANUA 


book of crochet, useful an^ 


LADIES' 

A handboo 

Contaiuiug new directions for making collars, 
idgings, caps, polkas, purses, doyleys, napkins, &c. 

THE MARRIAGE LOOKING-CLASS 

A Handbook for newly married couples. 

17o person should enter upon fhe duties and 
joys ot matrimony without taking a good look 
Into this telltale mirror. 

HANDBOOK OF THE TOILET 

Containing Ample Directions for adding to and Pre- 
serving the Beauty of the Person. 

The materials of this little work have been 
carefully collected, and are the result of long prac- 
tlcbl experience, and can not fail to add greatly to 
th^ beauty of the person. 

HANDBOOK OF WHIST.- Containing 
tlio Laws of the Game as laid down by the best 
authorities, and Concise Hubs for playing at 
every stage of the Game. 

In these pages the author has given, in a clear 
and concise form, all the instructions that ai*e 
ueceesary to make a gooc whist-player. 

THE LOVERS’ COMPANION. 

A Handbook of Courtship ami Carriage. 

THE BALLROOIVl COMPANION. 

A Handbook for the Ballroom and evening parties. 

HOW TO SPEAK AND WRITE 

WITH ELEGANCE AND EASE. 

A valuable little manual for the use of readers, 
writers, and talkers. It sliows the most prevalent 
errors that inexperienced persons fall into. The 
examples are made extremely plain and clean In 
every case the correct forms are given. 

HOWTO PRONOUNCE DIFFICULT 

WORDS. 

There are tew persons that have not at times 
ocen in doubt respecting the tine pronunciation 
of a word they desire to ose Tliis uncertainty 
can now be avoide By the aid of this book the 
bard words or most dithcult terms in the Eng- 
fisb language can be pronounced with ease and 
absolute accuracy. 


SLANG AND VULGAR PHRASES 
AND FORMS. 

A collection of objectionable words, Inaccuratsi 
terms, barbarisijis, colloquialisms, provincialisms 
quaint expressions, eant phrases, perversions ana 
misapplications of terms, as used in the various 
States of the Union. i 

THE FORTUNE-TELLER A^O 
DREAM-BOOK. 

OE, THE FUTURE UNFOLDED. 
Containing plain, correct, and certain rules fist 
foretelling what is going to happen. By the cela- 

istrologer of the 


brated Gabriel, the great astrologer < 


nine* 


teenth century. A complete oracle of destiny, 

HOWTO LIVE A HUNDRED YEARS 

A practical and reliable guide to health and 
longevity. With plain and specific instructioni 
for improving the memory- making it reten- 
tive, capacious, and reliable. The rules given aro 
the result of years of attention and study of the 
subject, and can not fail to make a bad memory 
good, and a good memory still better. 

TERENCE TIERNEY, ADMIRALe 

This work, by the celebrated Banibi, has r» 
ceived the indorsement of both press and peopla 
as the best delineation of Irish character, In Ikl 
brighter phases, ever published. 

THE CABIN-BOY: A Tale of the 
Wide Ocean. ByCapt. L.Q KmosTOit 

Since the advent of “ Eobinson Crusoe,” we wi!k 
venture to cay that no more startling narrativ* 
has been issxied from the press than this taie ol 
the wide ocean, by a well-known and popular ao* 
thor. it is clfarniing, fresb, and vigorous, and iB 
written as only an old salt could write. 

THE PEEP-O’-DAY BOYS; or, Wild 
Life on the Mountains. Bym;.Baniib. 

CAPTAIN DOE, THE MOUNTA3N 
CHEEF. Bj John Banim. 

This is a novel which, fo^ entrancing interest 
has nev«r l)e€n Burpassed. The marvelous advent 
tures of Captain Doc, at once the terror and pridsr 
of the mountains, ave detailed in Banim's mosl 
charming language. By all means get this book- 

CLEPK BARTON’S CRIME; or, the 

Adventures of a Night, a Tales! 

New York Life, High & Low. Ly Stkelk Penh. 

THE SHOWMAN’S GUIDE. 

This b.ok contains most of the marvelous 
things in aaoicnt and modem magrlc^ and 
is the textbook fur all showmen. 

HOW TO SEE NEW YORK CITY, 

including ConeylftlandandRoekavmyHeaeh* 
with Street THrectorv and list ol Churchi^ 
IlotelA, Tlieatera, and other objects of intere^ 
indiapensabie to any one visitiLg the Empire City 

GUIDE MAP OF NEW YORK CITX. 

Lonveniontiy folded for tko pocket. 







MAGNET HANDBOOKS. 

JE^rico S5 cents eacli. 


TSf^l!fA'ypp«?oO«ieesS; 

of modern etiquette for ladies and gentlemen. A 
perusal of this book will enable every one to rub 
off* the rough husks of ill-breeding and neglected 
education, and substitute for them gentlemanly 
case and ^accful ladylike deportment (as the case 
may be), so that their presence will be sought for, 
ana they will learn the art of being not only thor- 
oughly at home in all societies, but will have the 
rarer gift of making everybod^around them fool 
easy, contented, and happy. This work is fully 
np to the requirements of the times : it describes 
the etiquette of our very best society. 

) THE BOOK 
and Sure r 

The secrets of 
tailed, and the choicest recipes and formulas are 
jiven for the making of diiTcrent kinds of liquors, 
including the new method of making cider with- 
«ut apples. It Is arranged for the use of liquor- 
dealers, druggists, manufacturers, farmers, med- 
ical men, the household, confectioners, hunters, 
trappers, perfumers, artists, &c. Many of the re- 
cipes have been advertised and sold at sums rang- 
ing from 25 cents to $500; and there are maiiy 
rew and highly valuable recipes never before pub- 
.lifhed. 

f. PARLOR PASTIS^ES; or,Whol 9 

Of Amusing. —A new work, by Prot. 



Art 

ItAT2 



■ importance 
Is left unnoticed ; and the instructions and expla- 
fiations^are so simple and exhaustive thataclhld 
could perform the tricks. * A study of this i?itcr- 
csting work would make any one thoroughly ex- 
pert in amusing either a pubhc or private audience. 

THE HORSE-OWFJER’S GUIDES 

f ind Complete Horse-doctor.— The 

est work on tiia horse ever published. It should 
fce m the hands of every one who owns, works, or 
cares for a horse. It is a book that is needed, — 
almple, concise, comprehensive, reliable, and prac- 
‘ ‘ : the fulle 


tical,— givi;.£ 
ill matters tl 


llest and best information on 
at relate to this useful animal. 

CyiDE.-A 


THETAXICERMIST'S^,.,^ 

complete instructer in the art of collecting, pre- 
paring, mounting, and preserving all kinds of an- 
imals, birds, fishes, reptiles, and insects. Adapted 
ifor the use of amateurs, travelers, and practical 
workers. A number of tne best recipes are given, 
ns used by the best taxidermists, for articles used 
in the prcBcrvatiou and the setting up of auimala 
Xllustrated. 



Jnercial and mercantile transactions, includmg a 
dictionary of all the terms and technicalities nsed 
in commerce and in business houses. Correct 
legal forms are given of bills, deeds, notes, drafts, 
cheques, agreements, receipts, contract3,and other 
instruments of writing constantly necessary to all. 

GILBERT’S BOOK OF PANTC 
iViSmess Acting Charades. Parlor 
J Tableaux, it au 


Theatripalj 

contaius fijty Ta 


and’ 


so 


turea Persons who have never seen any of these 
things acted can easily arrange and perform them, 
2for church fairs, school exnibitious, and parlor 
entertainments, they are just tho thing, being 
easily produced and giving excellent opportunities 
for both young and old to participate. 


READY-K!ADS_ AUTOGRAPH- 
AL3UM VERSES, expressive of almost 
every human feeling and sentiment, such as Love, 
Friendship, Bespcct, Admiration, Good "Wishes, 
&.C., iuclumng a great number of acrostics fojr 

S roper names, all entirely original. Here all may 
nd something to write at once eloquent and 
propriate, to suit every phase of feeling, sentiment, 
or humor. 

HOW, TO WRITE A LETTER.-A 

complete letter-writer fer ladies and gentlemen. 
It tells bow to write a letter upon any subject out 
of the writer’s “own bead.” it also contains tho 
“Art of Sapid Writing” by the abbreviation of 
longhand, and a “Dictionary of Abbreviations.” 
This bock contains ell the points and featurea that 
are in other letter-writers, with very much that ia 
new, origliial, and very important, and wliich can 
not be found in any other book. 

HOW TO WRITE SHORTHAND, 

without a teacher-— A practice element? 
ary guide to Stenographic Writing and Keportmg. 
A Doy of twelve con by this method learn in at 
week what itHvould take an adult a year to leara 
by any other method. 

I 2 TTE Btrx, M.D. As a Dock of ready remedies 
for the ordinary ills of life, this book should be lu 
the hands of every person who is liable to an acci- 
dent or subject to a disease. It tells what to da 
and how to do it in the plainest possible maunej:. 

THE P?5ACT!CAL P^ACICiANs 
anti, VcntrlloquIst^s .Guide, iiv a se- 
ries of systematic lessons the iCamer is conducted 
through the whole field of magic, conjisring, and 
legerdemain. There are also given complete 
structions for acquiring the art of ventriioquisTTu 
The instructionc arc so very simple and practical 
that no one -an fail to acquire this amusing ait, 
and become a proficient ventriloquist and polyph* 
onist. Illustrated. 

^TRICKSANO DIVERSIONS WITH 

CARiiS.— An entirely new work, containing 
ail the tricks md deceptions with cards ever in* 
vented, including the latest tricks of the most ceU 
ebrated conjurers, magicians, and prestidigitators, 
popularly explained, simplified, and adapted for 
Iiome amusements and social entertainments. To 
lovers of the marvelous and ingenious this book 
will be a perpetual source of delight. Haudsomelyi 
illustrated. j 

TheJHiNTER’S AND TRAPPER’S 

iTE GUIDEa— A practical inan- 


CO^PLEI 

uai of instruci 


instruction in the art of bunting, trapping, 
end fishing. The instr* .tions wiil enable any one 
to become thoroughly expert in the ports and 
pastimes of the river, field, or fo. ^st. Illustri^cd. 



iancca 
numerous 

cuts” and diagrams, making the art Bo'simple chafe 
the most ignorant can become expert in it. 

, PERSONAL BEAUTY: or, the Whole 
Art 01 Attaining Bodily Vigor, Physical Develop- 
mnit, Beauty ot Feature, and Symmetry of Form, 
W'itli the Science of Dressing with Taste, Ele- 
gance, and Economy, Illustrated. 

THE AWATEUR PAINTER A man- 
ual 01 instructions in the arts ot painting, varnish- 
ing, and gilding, with plain rules for tlu practice 
of every department of house and sign paintii^ 


PRICE TWEXTT-FIVE CEJVT8 EACIL 


Address HURSY ^ CO*. ISS Hassau Street. New 7orR> 


MAGNET HANDBOOKS. 

PRICE TWEiyTY-FlVE OEXTS EACH. 


BOOK OF USEFUL RECEIPTS, 
and Manufacturers’ Cuide,- By Vro- 
icdsor Johnson. — l?or conciseness. reRability, and 
cheapness, this work is superior to any published, 
Kot only does it contain a vast number of reliable 
and practical recipes and processes relating to the 
tine arts, trades, and general ma^iufacturea, but it 
gives full and explicit instructions for acquiring 



chromatic and Crayon Painting, Vitremaine, and 
Hiany others of equal value and importance. 

SCIENTIFIC ThiEATISE ON 
Stammering, and Stutteringf and 

Its cure* — We have here this dilhcult subject 
treated so intelligently and plainly that any person 
interested can read and learn the causes of the 
peculiar and distressing impediments in his 
speech. It thoroughly explains the different 
L-auses that produce stammering, and then pr^> 
ceeds to make plain the means of cure, so that any 

J iersoii with a detennination to succeed, by follow- 
ng the rmstructions given, can cure himself of this 
most unhappy affliction, and at no expense, but 
the cost of the book. 

THE REAL SECRET ART AND 



lappy wiVos, and Dacheiors become happy 
hofibands, in a brief space of time and by easy 
methods. Also containing complete directions for 
declaring intentions, acc^^pting vows, and retain- 
ing affections, both before and after marriage. 

CHOICE VERSES FOR VALEN- 



selected 

V ov/o %/\^ ww vxx«, BAivvo, golden, 

and diamond wedding anniversaries; bouquet and 
birthday presentations, autograph-album verses 
and acrostics, and a variety of verses and poems 
adapted to social anniversaries and rejoicings. 

THE AMERICAN REFfRENCE<- 

BOOK*^^ manual of iacts, containing a chron- 
logical history of the United States; the public 
lands; everything about the constitution, debts, 
tevenues, productions, wealth, population, rail- 
roads, exemption, interest, insolvent and assign- 
tnert statutes of the United States, &c. 



thorship,ana p] 
evary laDor. As an aid and instructor to those who 
Ileaire to follow literary pursuits permanently for 

cofit, or to those who write for recreation and 

ie^ure, this book is indispensable. 

GYMNASTICS WITHOUT A 
TEACHER.- This book .plain y explains to 
vou how to go about learning all the popular 
(ranches of gymnaatics. Every man and boy 
ought to learn the different exercises described in 
this book, if he wishes to live a healthy life, and 
preserve a sound and vigorous body, a sharp eye, 
and simple limbs. 

FORTUNE-TELLING MADE EASY 
or. the Dreamer’s Sure Guide.— ^^is 
boox wiD tell you about your destiny, your pros- 
pective marriage, your business prospects, your 
'■we-affairs. The book is a perfect oracle of fate. 

FRENCH IN A FORTNICHT,^th. 

out a master.—A royal road to a knowledge 
of tbeParisiau tongue, in fifteen easy lessons on 
accent, grammar, and pronunciation. 

INCIDENTS OF AMERICAN 

CAftfIP-LIFE.— A colTi^ctiori ol tragic, pathet> 
Ic, and humorous events, which actually occurred 
during sue late civil war. 

OUR KNOWLEpOe-OOX; or, old 
aicrets new dbiao?en^ 


THE YQUNp WIFE’S OWM 
COOK-BOOK.— This very vmuable manuw 
teaches plainly how to buy, dress, cook, serve, and 
carve every Kind of fish, fowl, meat, gJime, and 
vegetabla Also, how to preserve fruits and vego 
tables, and bow to make pastry. 

THE FAMILY 

complete and practical 
classes. This valuable and comprehensive work is = 
needed in every house. 

THE ARTOFSELF- 


CYCLOPEOIA.-A 

domestic manual for all 


Boxing without a 

larffe illust 


COMIC AND 

L — including many 


iORNE’S JUVENILE 
ANP READER.-Brepar-a 


arge illustrations, showing 

tions, blows, stops, and ^uras. i5y jned uonellt. 
Professor of Boxing to tne London Athletic Club. 

„THE ART OF BEAUTIFYING AND 
Preservine the Hair; or, How to 

Make the Hj^lr Grow.— Tiais is the only 
exhaustive scicntiuc work on the hair published. 

'ot the most affecting, amusing, and spirited dia!* 
logues ever written,— affording opportunities foi 
the display of every different quality of action* 
voice, and delivery,— suitable for schools, 
mies, anniversaries, and parlor presentationSo 

S h^aw^th^^ 

careful^ foftKe'use’ol'young* chil- 
dren. Containing a large number of pieces, some 
simple enough to please infants, while all are sura 
to delight and improve children of every age. 

HAWTHORNE’S TRAGIC RE* 

CITER.— the very best pieces ever 
written expressive of Love, Hate, Fear, Bags, Ke- 
venge, Jealousy, and the other most melting, stir- 
ring, and startling passions of the human heart. 

HAWTHORNE’S COMIC RECITER 

Filled with the liveliest, joliiest, laughter-provok. 
ing stories, lectures, and other humorous pieces. 

Hawthorne’s Book of ^ Ready* 
made Speeches subjects tuat can 
occur, whetner on serious, sentimental, or humor* 
ous occasions. Including speeches and replies 
at dinners, receptions, festivals, political meetings* 
military reviews, firemen’s gathering, and indeed 
wherever and whenever any party, large or small, 
is gathered to dine, to mourn, to conCTatulat^ or 
to rejoice. Appended to which are Torms of all 
kinds of resolutions, &c., with a great number ol 
sentiments and toasts. 

, Theatricals at Home or. Plays 

for the Parlor. Plainly teaching how to dress, 
make up, study, and perform at private theatrical 
parties. To which are added how to arrange and 
display tableaux vivants, shadow pantomimes* 
drawing-room magic, acting charades, conun. 
drums, cuig!uas,&c.,with explanatory engravings* 

Snip, 

one hundre* 


Snap, Snorum, and nearly 

id Other parlor games, such as luvenila 

card-games, games of forfeits, games of action* 
games with pen and pencil Including many new 
and the old favoriTO-amusemeuta calculated tc» 
make home happy and set the youngsters scream* 
Ing wild with innocent delight. 

smo^i^ ^he 

Game. Also, how to preserve and keep*, fresh and 
full of flavor, fruits, berries, and vegetables. To 
which is added complete directions lor making 
candies and choice confections. 

^ Fishing with KppK and *-Ine.-^to 

book gives plain and lull directions for catching 
all the different kinds of fish found in Americaa 
waters; the proper season for fishing for thea4 
and the bait, tackle, &c., to be used. 


HSTRUMEHTiL MUSIC M&BE EASY. 


INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC 

,SlLF-mSTRUCTOES. 


Music Without a Teacher. 

Each of the following Books for teachinf 
Instnimental Music is perfect in every way. and 
from them anyone with a taste for ‘ Concord of 
Sweet Sounds” can become an accomplished 
Musician in a short time, on any of the Instn*- 
ments enumerated. 

Piano Without a Teacher. 

Tull instruction is given not only as to the keys, but everything is explained m 1* 
the fingering, position, use of pedals, etc. Price 2S5 cents. 

CABIHET ORGAlir WITHOUT A TEACHER. 

The playing of this Household Instrument is made quite easy, A little daliy ap- 
sUcation with this book will enable anyone to play with correctness ana «ae« 

trice 25 cents. 

Violin Without a Teacher. 

Bfery rule that could be learned from an Ol sBuU. or Paganini can be^ned f-'oaf 
these pages. The management of the fingers to produce every note, slide and #\a]m 
is clearly explained. Price 25 ceut!$. 

German Accordeon Without a Teacher. 

All the sweet melodies of this Instrument can be easily rendered by an applAet 
tton of the plain rules so welllaid down in this book. Price 25 cents. 

Banjo Without a Teacher. 

This lively Instrument can be learnt just as well from the plain rules of this boek, 
ae from the lips of a master. Every point and little trick of the famous players wet 
explained. Price 25 cents. 

Goruet Without a Teacher. 

By close attention to these rules one can become ae great a proficient as an A» 
buckle er a Levy. All about the keys and the valves, tongueing and double tongas. 
hig. etc., are clearly explained. Price 25 cents. 

So plain, practical and perfect are the lessons ^lyen, that tb« 
acQuiringr of the art of playing;: any of the above 
Instruments is quite simple and easy. 

Heart Songs and Home Tunes 

Cteotains COinPliETE ]IIlT$ie OF NEAWEY lOO PIECES, by such com. 

K sers as Ai)t, GSoYCr, Sloan, Catty and B'alle. Including a vast range of 
Bgs, Bounds, Duetts and Choruses, arranged for the Piano and Orsau- Piiois 
15 cents. 

€)opies of the above hoohs, sent by nsn-il post-paid to aiqf 
Address on receipt of price. 

HIiBSy & CO> mss Nassau $t. N.T, 



ROLLIM’S ARCIEMT HISTORY. 

^CIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIAJfS, CARTHAGE- 
NIANS, ASSYRIANS, BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND PER- 
SIANS, GRECIANS, AND MACEDONIANS. By Charles Rollin. 
In one largo quarto volume of over 1200 double-column pages, large clear type, 
good paper and printing. Illustrated. Price, cloth, $2.50 

For more than a hundred years Rollin’s Auciekt History has ranked with the hest ofhiftoricel 
works. The author has been especially noted for the intense interest with which he clothes his sub- 
ject so that his history has found its way into the liomes of the unlearned, as well as into the library 
of the scholar. The present edition is the latest, handsomest, and best puf-ushed in this country, bav* 
tag all the notes and corrections. 


WORKS OF FLAYinS JOSEPHOS. 

THE WORKS OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS, COMPRISmG 

THE ANTiaUITIES OP THE JEWS, A HISTORY OP THE 
JEWISH WARS, and a Life of J osephus, written by himself. Alsa disserta- 
tions concerning Jesus Christ, John tbe Baptist, J araes the Just, God’s Command 
to Abraham, &c. Translated h]y William Weiston, together with numerous 
explanatory notes, a complete index, &e. In one large octavo volume of 880 
double-colunan pages. Cloth, price $2.60 

The "Works of Flavius Josephus, translated hy Whiston, is a title familiar to every one. As a book 
cf the highest historical value, of surpassing interest, a companion and Interpreter of the books of the 
Bible, it holds a place in literature such as no work of modern origin can assume to reach. This is 
much the best edition in the market, and cheaper than the very cheapest. 


MACAULAY’S HISTORY of EHGLARD 

THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, FROM THE ACCESSION 

OP JAMES THE SECOND. By Thomas Babington Macaulay. This 
is a new edition of this well-known standard work, printed from new electrotype 
plates, in the popular 12ino form, and is without doubt the best of the cheaper 
editions of the work published. 3 vols. 12mo, cloth, 2135 pp. Price $3.00 

Macaulay’s History of England has been justly called a great national work. Its power, wisdom, 
and success, command unfeigned admiration. Every page bears testimony to a degree of conscientious 
ond minute research which no historian has ever surpassed, and few have ever approached. The work 
Is a monument to a life of indefatigable toil The style is faultlessly luminous : every word is in its 
right place ; every sentence is exquisitely balanced ; the current of interest never flags. Steady, strong, 
and uniform, the stream of thou^t continues to flow without apparent efi’ort, with no flurries to mar 
its dignified course. 

FROISSART’S CHROMICLES. 


CHRONICLES OF ENGLAND, FRANCE, SPAIN, AND 

THE ADJOINING COUNTRIES, from the latter part of the reign of 
^Edward U. to the Coronation of Henry Iv. By Sir John Froissart. Trana- 
lated from the French, with variations and additions from many celebrated man- 
; nscripts. By Thomas Johnes, Esq. To which are prel^ed a life of the author, 
an essay on his works, and a criticism on his history, with an original mtrod^- 
tory essay on the character and societyof the middle ages. By John Lord.LIj.D'. 
Illustrated, imperial, 8vo, double column, cloth. Price $2. 60 
This is a work that has been and always will be largely read and admired by the ^ant stripling m 
heitilv L bVthe anttquarian sage. It i/the only extensive and credible history that we have of the 
o? Chivalry Wntten by one who had himself rode in the li^ armed cap-Orpie, and stood the 
Siock of bWS home and mLi to man. This edition, the most perfect one ever issu^ is nchly illus- 
trated by 115 appropriate engravings. 


STANDARD LITERATURE. 



Our series of standard "works includes many of the acknowledged masterjjieces oi 
Historical and critical litei'ature. Most of these works have hitherto heen nnac* 
eessihle to the general reader by reason of the high prices at which they have been 
soli Tliese books are printed in large type. 12mo size, and neatly and strongly 
bound in cloth. Price .fl.26 each. 


THE WEAIiTH OP NATIONS. 

AN INQUIKY INTO THIJ NATUKE AND CAUSES OF THE WEALTH 
OF NATIONS. By Adam Smith, LL.D., P.R.S. This volume is a careful reprinfe 
of the three- volume editiom 

ADAM SMITH’S ESSAYS* 

ESSAYS, PHILOSOPHICAL ANI> LITEIIAIIT; including the ‘'T^eorv 
Jof Moral Sentiments,” “The Formation of Languages,” “Astronoraical Inquiries,” 
“Ancient Physics,” “Ancient Logic and Metaphysics,” “ The Imitative Arts — Music, 
Lancing, Poetry,” “The External Senses,” ‘‘EnglPh and Italian Verses,” See. By 
Adam Smith, LL.D., F.R.S. 

McCUELOCH’S POLITICAL ECONOMY. 

THE PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOlilY, vith a sketch of the 
Rise and Progress of the Science, By J. R. McCdlloch, With an Essay on in- 
terest, and the Value of Money. By J ohn Lockjs. 

MONTAIGNE’S ESSAYS. 

THE ESSAYS OF ^IICHAEL SEIGNEUR HE MONTAIGNE, with 
■^otes and Quotations, and an Account of the Author’s Life, translated into English 
i)y Chables OoiiTOJsr, Esq. 

BOLINGBKOKE ON THE STUDY AND USE OFHISTORY. 

LETTERS ON THE STUHY AND USE OF HISTORY: “On Exile,” 
“The Spirit of Patriotism,” “The Idea of a Patriot King,” “The State of Parties in 
1744.” By Heney St. John, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke. 

HUME’S ESSAYS. 

ESSAYS,— LITERARY* MORAL, AND APOLITICAL. By David Humb 
(the historian). 

SIDNEY SMITH’S ESSAYS. 

ESSAYS,— SOCIAL AND POLITICAL. By Rev. Sidney Smith 

MILMAN’S HISTORY OF THE JEWS. 

HISTORY OF THE JEWS. B f H. H. Midman, D.D., late Dean of St. Paul's. 

HALE AM’S EUROPE. 

VIEW Ol" THE STATE OF EUROPE DURING THE MIDDLE AGES. 

By Heney Hall am LL,D.. F.E.AS. 

?' OOKE ON THE HUMAN rNDERSTANDING. 

AN ESSAY CONCERNING THE HUMax. UNDERSTANDING. By^ 
John Locke. With the Notes and Illustrations of the author, and an Analysis of i 
his Doctrine of Ideas. Also, Questions on Locke’s Essay, for the use of students. ( 

^ AUBIGNE’S HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. ' 

THE HISTORY OF THE RELORYLATION OF THE SIXTEENTH 
CENTURY, from its commencement to the days of Cal"sdn. By J. H. Meelbs 
DAubige J, D.D, Translated from the author’s late French edition. 

MILTON’S EARLY BRITAIN, &c. 

BRITALN UNDER TROJAN, ROMAN, AND SAXON RULE. By John 

Milton. ENGLAND UNDER RICHARD IIL By Sir Thomas Moee. 

THE REIC N OF HENRY VII. By Lord Bacon. Three books bound in one 
volume. 

ESSAYS ON BEAUTY AND TASTE. 

ESSAY ON BEAUTY. By Feancis [Lord] Jeeeeey.- .-ESSAY ON 
TASTE, Uy Archibald Alison, LL.D. The two books in one volume. 


rr:sLT2 


Prose Writers of 


meriea. 


A OoUection of Eloquent and interesting Extracts from the 
Wri tings of American A uthors. 

By GEORGE B. CHEEVER. 

This book Is an absolute necessity to any one who wishes to be acquainted 
Sfirith the excellencies as well as ihe peculiarities of our great prose writers and 
^orators. Here will be found specimensof some of the most exquisitely fine, grand, 
fiery, simple, ornate and effective writing and oratory that the language containst 
It is full of “thoughts that breathe and words that burn.’’ Any one that has carefully 
read this volume will be able to realize fully the splendid God-given genius ot 
those that have helped to crush vice, elevate patriotism and wreathe the pure brow* 
of virtue with amaranthine flowers. 

We append the names of some of the many authors whose best utterances ap* 
pear in this work : 

Buckminster, 

Franklin, 

Paulding", 

Kirkland, 

Beecher, 

Ticknor, 

Ero-ym, 

Jay, Kott, Bush, 

This splendid array of names by no means includes all the gifted persons, 
Specimens of whose works appear in these pages. It would take roonihs of timi 
to go through the hundreds of volumes to find such excellent examples as will 
be found here. 

One volume, 12 mo., pp. Price OnQ Dollar. 


g u Buceau, 
ig Elk, 
Webster, 
Marshall. 
Bamsay, ' 
Everett, 
Adams, 
Cass, 


Red Jacket, 
Emerson, 
Madison, 
Bancroft, 
Silliman, 
Cooper, 
Ames, 

Fitch, Flint, 


Sedgwick, 
Jefferson, 
Channing", 
Quincy, 
Dwight, 
Irving, 
Norton, 


Wayland^ 
Appleton, 
Dana, 
Dennie, 
Mason, 
Sparks, 
Carter, 
Wirt. 


0713: El 


Poets of America. 

By GEORGE B. CHEEVER. 


< This work is one much needed. It contains all the most truly beautiful short 
pieces of American Poetry— me ciear wheat winnowed of all chaff. We havei 
only to rive a list of the names of some of the contributors to this volume to show 
that its leaves are enriched by offerings of the very choicest poetical gems. 

The work contains one or more poems by 

Lonrfellow, Woodworth, Huntington, Sigourney, 

McLellan, Rockwell, Eastburn, 

Davidson, Whittier, Thatcher, 

Pierpont, Brainard, Percival, 

Graham, Sprague, Peabody, 

Wilco:^, Bryant, Halleck, 

Norton, Mellen, Lewis, 

Sands, Dawes, Ware, Dana, 

There are numerous pieces, in addition, which appeared in various literal 
papers anonymously ^ and which have since become famous, and which it is iL.^ 
possible to find except in these pages. This book is, in truth, the most completa 
compendium of the best poems of our best poets that has yet been made. It 
must be remembered, too, that the majority of articles in this book were selected 
tv the wtb<»"sas. so to speak, the choicest arrows in their quivers. 

OoelaodMiBe volume, 12 ^06 pp. Plice One DoBaz. 


Hiimouse, 
Pickering", 
Goodrich, 
Frisbee, 
Willie, 

Alston, 

Flint, Neal, 


Townsend^' 
Hale, I 
Garrison, ] 
Gilman, 
Everett, 
Brooks, 
Doane, 
Gould. 


TREASURY OF HNCLISK WOROS>^ 

■ 

Tliesam of English forts & Phrases 

Classified arid arranged so as to facilitate the expression of ideas, 
and assist in literary composition. By Peter Mark Rogbt, M.D., F.R.S. 
New edition. Large 12mo, 742 pp. Kxtra cloth. Price Si. ^5, By mail 15 cts. extra. 

Ab a dictionary is an aid to one who reads, so Is this work to one who desires to express thought, 
cither in writing or in conversation, and who wishes to do so with clearness, accuracy, elegance, or 
Btren^h of language. 

This work is truly a bank from whicli the cneaker can draw either ready coin and einal! change for 
converaahon, or invested riches of laugun^e tor the essay or sennon. A copious vocabulary always 
pleases. ConveraatioTiist, orator, debater, editor, preacher, writer, lady, or gentleman, should get and 
master the treasures of lingliah speech. — Unioii^ SchejiectuJ^j JV; Y, 

A book designed to aid the English student at once to exe.ctness and elegance of expression. 
have for years had two copies of the iiianual in constant employ, oiie at our office desk and one a* 
home. — dongreffatio7i(iliety BoHoru 

The new edition is vastly superior to all former ones. While there are many dictionaries and 
works on synonyms, noi>e enn be named beside this. — Ro^irid Talle^ London. 

Almost as indispensable ro all writers as a dictiojiary, — The World, L'ew York. 


The Handy Bsbie Cyctopedia; 

and BIBLiE-IlE ADER’S ASSISTANT. Containing' a new and complete 
Illustrated Dictionary of the Holy Bihl.. Comprising a General Index in 
which the various persons, places, and subjects mentioned in it are accurately referred to and de- 
scribed, and eveiy difficult word explained. A Coiieordaiiee to the Old and Xow 

Testaments^ by Rev. .Tohn Enowif. An Exnlaajitory Index to the persons, places, and subjects 
occurring in the Holy Scriptures. This valuable volume is a complete treasury of Biblical knowledge, 
and haa only to be known to render it indispensable to cv(Ty Bible reader. 

Illustrated, 800 pp. ]2mo. Brice ?o cents. By mail 15 cents extra. 


HURST’S POPULAR CLASSICS. 

In this popular series are includ.d someijif the choicest productions of the human naind. Both 
ancient and modern literature are represented. The series forms tlie clieapest lil)rary ever <>ffered to 
the American public. Bound in cloth, gilt, 18mo. Price per vol., 4i> cents. By mail lO cents extra. 


A Good Eight. 

Arabian Nights. 

Arnold, Edwin. 

Banim’s Works 
Bible Dictionary , 

Brief Biographies. 
Burns. 

Byron. 

Children of the Abbey. 
Corinne. 

Creasy’s Fifteen Deci- 
sive Battles. 

Dante. 

Don Qujxote . 

Eliot, George. 

Favorite Poems. 

Goethe. [pity of. 

Franklin, Antobiogra- 
Goldsmith. 

Greene, Hlarlowe, and 
donson. 


Gulliver’s TraA'els, and 
Baron Munchausen. 
Heine. 

Hemaris. 

Homer’s Odyssey. 
Homer’s Iliad. 

Hugo. 

Hypatia. 

Ingelow. 

Jane Eyre. 

John Halifax. 
Kingsley. 
Knickerbocker, 
Eanguage and Poetry 
of FloAvers. 

East of tlie Mohicans. 
Eongfellow, 

Eucile. 

Miss Muloch. 
Munchausen. [Gems. 
One Thousand and 


Qwen Meredith. 
Petrarch. 

Pilgiam’s Progress. 
Poe. 

Pope. 

Robinson Crusoe. 
Romola. 

Rossetti, Daute. 
Schiller. 

Scott. 

Scottish Chiefs. 

Sketch-book. 

Spectator. 

Tasso. 

Tennj'son. 

Tliaddeus of Warsaw. 
Thompson. 

Tom Brown’s School- 
days. 

Tupper. 

I Uarda. 

I I Virgil. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

Together witli his Essays on Political, Financial, Moral, Social, and 
P4iilosoi>liical Sulgects. ISirio, cloth. Price 40 cts. By mail 10 cts. extra. 

This is the most instructive and delightful eolf-history ever published. Franklin not only ^ves nt 
an account of every action of bis life, but lie unveils his thouglits, gives ua his motives— whetlier cred- 
itable to him or not. This secret history, rotinnnher, i« of a man who went through every pl^se ot* 
life,— of whom Jefferson said, “ England glories in her Lord Bacon, and America as justly prides her- 
setf upon Benjamin Franklin.” Iranklin’s life is as amusing as Gil Bias, as instructive as that of 
Morse. The schoolboy, tlie scientist, and the statesman alike tind aiiiusemeiit and information ii\ the 
plcAsiua pages of “ Poor Richard.” Every family in the land ahould have a copy of this book. 


j^i[airi©3HL 


ARLINGTON EDITION. 

^ile^ant in Style. Moderate in Price. TypeLa^^^^ Paper Fine. Binding Exoell''’*^. 


ROBINSON CRUSOE; His Life a.nd Adventures. 

js. New, Complete and Unabridged Edition. 480 pp, 12 mo. 10 full page illustra-' 
tions, by Thwaites and others. Everything is farst-class — the print very plain, 
the paper good, the bindin^trong and handsome. Cloth, Black and Gold, 
fall gilt back. Price One Dollar. 

Every language written by man, it is said, has been enriched by a translation 
/of this immortal work. Every boy — aye, and man too — has felt a thrill of pleasure 
as Robinson safely reached shore on his rudely built raft; has watched the solitary 
man in his walks, as attended by his tamed goats and his wonderful “ Poll,” he 
marched, gun in hand, to view the shores of his island home— monarch of all he 
surveyed; and felt his heart bound, as Crusoe at last espied the bark that was to 
bear him to his native land. 


ARABIAN NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS; 

Or, the Thousand and One Nights. 

New and Complete Edition. 480 pp. 12 mo. 6 full page Ulus. Cloth, Black and 
Gold. Price One Dollar. 

These wonderful Stories have outlived the palaces of the Caliphs, and thousand? 
of the fair slaves of the Harem have turned to dust in the Valley of Sweet Waters 
(Since these strange tales were first told. Yet they are as fresh to-day as the ever 
blooming roses of Cashmere. No child is too simple, no man too wise, to feel his 
lieart glow with admiration or chill with fear as he follows the fortunes and mis- 
fortunes of the vast number of characters that figure in these entrancing pages. 

BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. 

The Pilgrim’s Progress from this World to that Which is to Come. By John Bun- 
YAN. 4 ■* pp. large 12 mo. 10 full page Illustrations. Fy J. D. Watson, 
Cloth, . ick and Gold. Price One Dollar. 

Next to the Bible this is the book dear to every Christian heart. If ever in later 
times a ladder reached to and from heaven, surely one reached from the prison of 
podr John Bur.yan to the throne of Grace. His book is not merely religious, it is 
religion 

MOORE’S WORKS. 

The Poetical \\ orks of Thomas Moore, Complete and Unabridged. Reprinted from 
the original edition, with Explanatory Notes. 800 pp. large 12 mo. Cloth, 
Black and Gold. Price One/ Dollar. 

Every person with one note of music in his soul .should own a copy of this book. 
Though in one respect Moore is a universal poet, in that his works are household 
treasures in almost every hom&-, yQtis'heypar excellence^ the Poet of the Emerald Isle. 

DANTE. 

The Vision of Hell, Purgatory and Paradise, Translated into English Verse, by 
' H. T. Cary, A. M. With copious Explanatory Notes, and a Chronological View 
of the Age of Dante. 400 pp. large 12 mo. Cloth, Black and Gold. Price 

One Dollar. , , . . ,, 

This is the best English translation ever made of this marvellous creation. The 
5luthor was one of the most learned as well as one of th ' most original writers the 
world has known, and it needed a man like Carj^— a prodigy of wisdom— to properly 
translate and elucidate this world famous book— Miltonic in its grandeur of con- 


ception. BURN’S POETICAL WORKS. 

The Complete Works of Robert Burn.s. A New Edition, Unabridged, with Ex- 
planatory and Glossarial Notes, and a Memoir of the Author, 500 pp. Large 
12 mo. Cloth, Black and Gold. Price One Dollar. . o , j 1. 

/slong as the daisy blosspirs and the heather blooms in Bonnie Scotland, the 
memory of her ” peasant poet ” will endure. Aye, and should endure. He has not 
only sung of the witching hour “ When Coming through the Rye, of 
Heaven," of the " Banks and Braes o’ Bonnie Door ” ” Scots wa hae wt Wallace 
Bled ’’—but he has enforced grand truths that “ Rank is but the Guinea s Stamp, a 
Man’s a Man for a’ that;” and in hie best lines has produced a reverence for the 
Bible and a love of virtue. 


u 





V 


X. 


UU 


li5! 


The Kind of Books Boys and Girls Want to Have, 

SOMETHING TO MAKE HOME HAPPY 


RARE TREAT FOR THE JUVENILES 


<»RETTy STORIES— 

PRETTY PICTURES— 

PRETTY BINDINGS. 


Boys and Girls Story Book. 

By “COUSIN VIRGINIA.” 

“Tiis, although a new book, is full of the tnie home-like spirit th^t filled the stoi-y 
s of our childhood. The Boys and Girls Story Book is crammed with the most 
«*»'ightful tales that fancy ever painted. Boys and Girls, as well as all kinds of 
##mning and interesting animals, figure in the different chapters. What rare, sea~ 
/Vned humor, is crowded into “The Dog’s Story,” “The Experience of a Chicken 
(/one,” “The Bat’s Story,” “The Sunbeam’s Story,” “The Rat’s Family,” “Jack’* 
Circus,” “How the Canary Bird Caught Cold,” and, indeed, every page is alive 
rith innocent fun and frolic. Almost every sentence brings a happy smile, except 
where occasionally a sweet, tendei sentiment makes a few precious tears drop inte 
jUie nrf^tty dimples. 

. lie children that get this beautiful Book for their holiday gift, will be all 
the happier and better for it. One large elegantly printed 12 mo. vol., cloth, with 
A superbly designed and engraved cover in black and gold, illustrations. Sent oy 
SSail. n<~' on receipt of price, $1.^6 


Merry’s Games and Puzzles. 

The prettiest garden is not more full of Flowers, than is this book of f^ictterei 
Bad Stortes. And Such Pictures! all full of life and fun; and Such Stories! falrlj 
boiling over with interest. Such a lot of Games and Puzzles^ too, as will keep a 
tome circle pleasantly perplexed for hours, except when loud laughter breaks forth 
as 6on»e little wise head solves the intricate riddles. *Tis such a book as this that 
^■seps the young folks, well pleased, in-doors during the long stormy win*-“** ri'chts. 
Richly bound in cloth, black and gold. Price $1.^5 

|l8i^oftlidal^e8fiiitb4rMail.toapiuraddxe&d* &00. 122£Iai!5%aSt. 





LIBRMT 


« 


^his series includes tlie very cream of English literature. The 
books comprise the best standard works in Poetry, History, 
Fiction, and Biograpliy. Each volume is made up in the popula)* 
12mo size, and is well printed on good paper from new electrotype 
plates, and bound in the best English cloth, in black and gold. The 
volumes contain from 300 to 400 pages, and are, without doubt, th»? 
ciieapesi. series of standard works ever presented to t}x& 
public. Price One Doilar Each. 


Chaucer’s Poetiaal Works. 

A very complete edition of t^e works of the 
“Father of English poetry.” 

Spenser’s Poetical Works. 

A new edition, with Glossary. 

Dryden’s Poetical Works, 

The complete works of John Dsyden, 

Byron’s Poetical Works. 

Lord Byron’s Complete Works. Eeprinted from 
the original edition, 

Shelley’s Poetical Works. 

Keprinted from the eai’ly editions. 

Keats’s Poetical Works. 

The complete works of John Keats. Beprintod 
from the early editions. 

Hood’s Poetical Works. 

Tom Hood will ever remain a favorite. This 
volume contains the whole of his poems, 

JHeber’s Poetical Works. 

A new edition of the works of this eminent 
Christian poet. 

Owen Meredith’s Poetical 
Works. 

Complete, from the best English edition. 

Jean Ingelow’s Poetical 
Works. 

A very fine edition of the works of this popular 
poetess. 

Oeorgo Eliot’s Poems. 

I'he Poems of George Eucot. From 
tlie latest London edition. 

To many persons th<i name of Georoe Eliot 
only recalls the powerful writer of “The Mill on 
the Floss,” “ Adam Bede,” and other wonderful 
novels ; but a perusfil of these poems will convince 
such readers that the half had not been told them. 
For brilliant imagery, vividness of description, ac* 
curate characterizution,and elegance and strength 
of poetical laugnage.GEOimE Eljot stands the peer 
of the best of her contemporaries. 

Shakspeare’s Complete 
Works. — A new and portable 

edition of Shakspeurc’? works. 


The Last Days of Pompeiit. 

By Sir Edward Budwee Lytton. Bari . 

A very ne^t edition of this powerful hlst^rif’yil 
novel, with the author’s notes, &c, 

Paul and Virginia, Basse ^ 
las, Vicar of WakeUeld. 

WTio would be without this trio of classic gems 
when they can bri procured, in one volume, for tbo 
small sum of sixty cents ? 

Dickens’s Child’s History 
of England. 

The Child’s History of England, By Charl! b 
Dickens. A new edition for the use of SchooVj. 
Illustrated. 

Ivanhoe. By SirWALTER Scott . 

From the last revised edition, containing the tuv 
thor’s final corrections, notes, &c. 

History of Don Quixote dm 
la Mancha. 

From the Spanish of Cervantes. Illustrated 
Bore. 

Tom Brown’s Schooldays. 

By Thomas Huohes, anticipate a large sale 
for this celebrated work 

Grimm’s Popular Tales. 

A new translation by this popular German authof. 

Willy Reilly and his Dear 
Colleen Bawn. 

A handsome edition of this charming story. 

Vanity Fair. ByW.M.THACKBBAY. 

By many considered the author’s masterpiece. 

The Swiss Family Robinson 

Or. the Adventures of a Father, Mother, and 
Four Sons on a Desert Island. The original work, 
without abridgment 

The Complete Angler. By 

TyAAv Wai/ton' and Charles Cotton. 
A new illustrated edition. With Notes, 
by G. C. Davies. 

David Copperfield. 

By Charles Dickens. , Illustrated. 

The Last of the Mohicans. 


[erbert’s Complete W orks 

rhe works of Georoe Herbert in prose and 


A Narrative of 1757. By J. FENNHtORH 

Cooper. 


AMERICAN STANDARD LIBRARY. 

Price One Dollar Each. 


Englisli Men of Letters.— 

Edited by John Mobley.— A series of 
brief biographies by the most eminent 
literary men of the day. 

VoL I. contaiua MILTON, Mark Pattison. 
CnAUOEK, by Prof. A W. W.— OOWPEli, 
by Goldwin Siiiith.— SOUTHEY, by Professor 
Dowden.— ftPENSElL by the Dean of St Paul s. 

VoL II. contains J^mJVSON* by Leslie Ste- 
phen.— OEFOE, by William Miuto.— OOL£>- 
SMITII, by William Black.— SCOTT, by B. 
H. Hutton. ^TUAOKEIt AY, by Anthony 
Trollope. 

Romola. By George Eliot. 

The writings of this wonderful woman burst 
upon the world like lightning from a cloudless sky. 
Tnis book is as full of learning as if writton by 
Mocaulay ; as full of the fiery embers of passiou 
as if Byron’s gray goosequill had flashed through 
its pages ; while it is as heart-satisfying as a love- 
sto^ as if either Bulwer or Disraeli naa expended 
on it all their genius. 

Jane Eyre. By Charlotte 
Bronte (Currer Bell). 

Many books fadl stillborn, others wilt slowly, the 
few peerless and priceless products of the highest 
genius flourish in immortal youth. This book, we 
need hardly say, is of the latter kind. The work 
has been sold by thousands, dramatized by dozens, 
and we do not err in saying it has been read and 
cri«d over by millions. 

Brief Bio^apMes. By Sam- 
uel Smiles. 

This capital book contains some twenty biogra- 
phies of people about whom the world is never 
tired of reading and hearing. His style is adray*- 
able, — brilliant without being glittering, precise 
and accurate without being for a moment formal 
ordulL The subject-matter Includes such eminent 
names as Margaret Fuller, Kobert Stephenson, 
Dr. Arnold, Theodore Hook, Hugh Miller, Audo- 
bon, Jeffrey, Poe,— in short, leading critics, di- 
vines, poets, metaphysicians, and philanthropis^a. 

la tne Forecastle; 

Or, Twenty-five Years a Sailor. By 

Richabd J. Cleveland. 

This is a very entertaining book, written in a 
plain, easy, yet fascinating style, by an old Amer- 
ican ‘‘salt,” who relates wnat he actually saw and 
experienced. His adventures in different seas and 
various countries are thrilling and intensely inter- 
£8ting. No one can fail to be amused and instruct 
ed by the reading of this famous sea narrative, 

Tne Spectator.— Religious, 

Moral, Humorous, Satirical, and Crit- 
ical Essays, by Addison, Steele, Blod- 
gett, and Tickell 

No one can have any right conception of the 
vigor, beauty, and elegance of the English lan- 
guage, UBtil lie has given his days and nights to a 
perusal and study ot these matchless essays, 

Hypatia. By Charles Kings- 
ley. 

Thera is no hook to compare this one to. It is 
unique : it stands alone. Tne author depicts, with 
A tierce energy and power, the hideous intrignes 
and the homd villeuies which characterized the 
Byzantine court ; but he invests his heroine with 
every virtue, and she sails serene through scenes 
of crlminaliW, as the moon moves on in silver 
tustsr amid toe blackest clouda 


Tile Fifteen Decisive Bat- 

tles of "ihe World. By E.S. Creasy. 

The very able author has shown good judgment 
in his selection of great battles, from Marathon to 
Waterloo, He has described with the skiU of a 
tiraC-class military historian the causes which led 
to, the way in which they were fought, and the 
conseouent results of, the important battles of 
Marathon, of Syracuse of Arbel^ of Metaurus, be- 
tween Amiinius and Varus, of Chalons, of Tours, 
of Hastings, of Orleans, of the Spanish Axmada, 
of Blenheim, of Pultowa, of Saratoga^ of Vokney, 
and of Waterloo. 

Tom Brown at Rugby. By 

Thomas Hughes. 

Of all the books ever written about schoolboys* 
pranks, and tricks, and mischiefs, and deviltries, 
this book beats them all. Every page is rich in 
the funniest of all fun. Hew the boys are tyran- 
nized over by masters, and how the big boys send 
the thumps and kicks round, is as droll as it is true. 

XJarda. A Romance of Ancient 
Egypt. By George Ebers. 

It has long been known thet this author is tho 
greatest living Egyptian scholar; but it is not so 
well known that in this grand book he has reviv- 
ified the mummies of the mystic land, and shown 
us exactly how the men and women of the Pho:- 
raohs* time lived, loved, and died. 

The Sketen-book. By Wasec- 
ington Irving. 

Perhaps the finest pieces of original fictitious 
writings that this country has produced. 

Jolm Halifax, Gentlemair. 

By Mrs. Muloch-Craik. 

A matchless plot, interesting and varied scenes^ 
end charecters true to life in its diflerent manifes- 
tations, have won for' John.IIalifax” the repuf»- 
tion of being about the best of the dozen foremost 
novels of the age. 

Knickerbocker. By Wasit- 
iNGTON Irving. 

A work to be compered with anything of thf 
kind in our language; a book of unwearying 
pleasantry; e book wiiich, if it has a fault, haa 
only that of being toe pleasant, too sustained a 
tissue of merriment and vVdicule .— Everetts 

Corinne. By Mme. De Stael. 

A centurv has about p.^ssed since this book was 
first read witk avidity in every drawing-room of 
Europe and America: and still any person who 
likes a great book, or desires to talk about one, 
will continue to read p^ges written by one whose 
wit and learning could make Napoleon shrink. 

Tbe Female Spy of tbe 

Union Army. The Thiilliii^ Adven- 

tures. Experiences, and Escapes of a Woman, as 
Nurse, Spy,, and Scout in HospitaL Camp, and 
Battlefield. By Emma E. Edmokds. Fully Illus’d 

Confessions of an English 

Opium-eater; Essays on Men of 
Lettrs. By Thomas De Quincey. 
Tbe New Atlantis; Wis- 
dom of the Ancients; and Histor- 
ical Sketches. By Lord Bacon. 
Choice Speeches an^ Efif- 
says by Edmund Burkb. 


Address BURST A CO. 133 Nassau St. N.T. 


3[#itoa*ai*3r;, 

Price One Dollar Ea^ ‘ 


Poe’s Poetical Works. 

The Complete Poems of Edgar Allen 
Poe, with memoir, his essay on “The Po- 
Principle.” Portrait. 400 pp. 12 mo. 

Here are to be found every line of the 
Poems, (in one volume) of the keenest in- 
tellect, the most gifted poetic inspiration, 
and the most exquisite and fiery diction 
ever bestowed upon anyone human being 

Schiller’s Poetical Works. 

The Complete Poems of J. C. F. Schil- 
ler, Translated by Edgar Browning, 
C. B;r!^opp., 12 rao. 

Schiller’s name would alone have glor- 
ified Germania. His was the very gen- 
ius of romance; and the names of Shakes- 
peare’s Hamlet and Romeo will fade 
from the scroll of fame as soon as Wal- 
lenstein and Charles de Moor. “His 
Diver” will never disappear, nor his 
“Bell” cease to ring ouc its enchanting 
music. 

Goethe’s Poetical Works. 

The Poetical Works of Goethb. — 
Translated by Edgar Browning, C. B. 

This book contains the Poems of one 
who never penned a dull line. The brain 
that could evolve a Faust, a Wilhelm 
Meister and a Margueritte, and invest 
them with the semblance and energy of 
life, may be niched with Byron or Hugo. 

Dante. 

The fision of Hell, Purgatory and 
Paradise. Translated into English verse 
by H. F. Cary, A. M. With copious Ex- 
planatory Notes and a Chronological 
View of the Age of Dante. 6oopp .12 mo. 

This is the best English translation 
ever made of this marvellous creation. 
Miltonic in its grandeur of conception. 

Moore’s Poetical Works. 

The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, 
Complete and Unabridged, Reprinted 
from the original edition, witx\ Explan- 
atory Notes. 800 pp. large 12 mo. 

Every person with one note of music 
in his soul should own a copy of this 
book. 

Bums’ Poetical Works. 

The Complete Works of Robert Burns. 
A New Edition, Unabridged, with Ex- 
planatory and Glossarial Notes, and a 
Memoir of the Author. 500 pp. 12 mo. 


Pope’s Poetical Works. 

The PoeticalWorks of AlexanderPo;>e, 
with Memoir. Explanatory K ,»tes by 
the Author, Warburton and others. 550 
pp. 12 mo. Large, clear type. 

Tapper’s Poetical Works. 

The Complete Poetical Works of M ar- 
tin Farquhar Tupper, A. M., F. R. S. 
Author of Proverbial Philosophy. Au- 
thorized edition. 419 pp, 12 mo. Cloth, 
gilt. 

Rich thought and pure ideas, express- 
ed in strong, simple and poetic sentences 
are the rulingcharacteristicsof the many 
poems to be found in this handsome book. 
It is indeed, a priceless casket, full of 
earnest and eloquent appeals to all the 
best feelings of our nature. 

Robinson Crusoe; His Life 
and Adventures. 

A New, Complete and Unabridged 
Edition, 480 pp. 12 mo, 10 full page il- 
lustrations, by Thwaitesand others. 

Every language written by man, it is 
said, has been enriched by a translatioa 
of this immortal work. 

Arabian Nigbts* BntertaizK- 

ments; or, the Thousand. 

and One Nights. 

New and Complete Edition. 468 pp. 
12 mo. 6 full page Illustrations. 

Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Pro- 
gress. 

The Pilgrim’s Progress from this 
World to that Which is to Come. By 
John Bunyan. 412 pp. 12 mo. lo full 
page illustrations, by J. D. Watson. 

Next to the Bible this isthebookdear 
to every Christian heart. This book is 
not merely religious— it is religion. 

Children of the Abbey. 

By Regina Maria Roche, z vol., zs 
mo., 585 pp. Cloth, gilt. 

This is one of the most popular of nov- 
els. Itisacharmingstory.and one which, 
being once read, retains that indescriba- 
ble fascination few novels own— the trait 
of rendering the reader willing to go 
over it again. 


AiAdress HURST & CO. 192 IVassau St. M. Y. 


The Prose Writers of Am- 
OTica* A collection of eloquent 
and interesting extracts from the writ- 
ings of leading Ameiican authors. By 
Gkobqi B. Cheeveb, 

This bof»k is an absolute necessity to any one 
Who wishes to be acquainted with the excellences 
as well as the peculiarities of our CTeat prose 
writers and orators. Fere will be found sped jnens 
of seine of the most exquisitely line, grand, fiery, 
simple, ornate, and effective writing and oratory 
tlrat the English language contains It is full of 
“thoughts tnat breathe and words that burn.” 
Any one that has carefully read this volume will 
be able to fully appreciate the God-given genius 
of those authors and orators who have helped to 
crush vice, exult patriotism, and wreathe the pure 
brows of virtue with ainaraatthine flowers. 

The Poets of America. By 

George B. Cheever. 

This work is one nmeb needed. It contains all 
the most truly lieautiful sliort pieces of American 
p^ti-y,"~ clear wheat winnowed of all chaff. 
There are numerous pieces wliich apneared in va- 
rious literary papers anonymously, and which have 
since become famous, and wliidn it is impossible 
t» find except in tb .se pages. I'his book is, in 
truth, the most complete compendium of the best 
poems of our best poets tliat fias yet been made. 
It must he remembered, too. that tlie majority of 
articles in this book were selected by tlie authors, 
afi,so to speak, the choicest arrows in their quivera 

The British Female Poets. 

With biographical and eiitieal notices. 
By George W. Bethune. 

This work contains tlie finest specimens of the 
writings of no less than sixty of the best Female 
Foets of Great Britain. There are hundreds of 
pieces, most of them re-il “ gems of purest ray se- 
rene.” The list includes aU who have wiitt^ weU, 
from Anne Boleyn to Famiy Kemble. 

Biographical Sketches of 
eminent People who figured 

dnring the earlier and later periods of 
the Present Century, including Literary, 
Soientifie, Professional, Social, Political, 
and Reyal Personages. By Harriet 
■MARTINEAtr. 

Tlioae sketches are not mere dry details of dates 
of birth, marriage, and death, but searching anal- 
ysis is given of tlie Ideas and work of each of the 
chwaeters by one of the ablest women that ever 
Uvwi. 

Scott*s Lives of Novelists 
and Dramatists. “Lives of 

Eminent Novelists and Draraatists.” 
By Sir Walter Scott. New edition, 
revised, with additional notes. 

The Book of Authors. — A 


HaUam’s and De Lolme’s 
England. “The Constitutional 
History of England from the time of 
Edward 1. to Henry VII.” By Henry 
Hall AM. “The Constitutional His- 
tory of England, ” by J. L. Be Lolmk, 

History of the Saracens. 

“The Saracens ; Their History, and tho 
Rise and Fall of their Empire.” By 
Edward Gibbon and Simon Ockley. 

Scott’s Essays on Chivalry, 

Romance, and the Drama. By Sir 

Walter Scott. 

The Koran, Commonly called 

“ The Alkoran of MohammeeJ^’ Trans- 
[lated into English from 1die original 
Arabic. With Explanatory Notes 
taken from the most apiiroved com- 
mentators. To which is added a pre- 
liminary discourse hy George Sale. 

Kepresentative Actors. A 

Collection of Criticisms, Anecdotes, 
Personal Descriptions, &c., referring 
[to many celebrated British Actors, 
from the sixteenth to the present cen- 
tury. With Notes, MeraoirSj and a 
Short Account of English Acting. By 
W. Clark Russell. 
Munchausen. “The Travels 
and Surprising Adventures of Baron 
Munchausen. 

Baron Munchausen can “take the cake ’[ as tlie 
champion liar of tlie ages. He tells amusing but 
incredible libs with sucli minute details and grav- 
ity that he miglit “ deceive the very elect.” Grave 
rofessors as well as gay scholars always have tills 
ook in a sly dark corner. If wc were to tell how 
many million copies have been sold we would bo 
accused of “Munchauseniug.” 

The Adventures of Gil Bias. 

Translfited from the French of Lb 

Sage by Smollet. 

Pepy’s Diary. “The Diary of 
Samuel Pepys, Esq., F.R.S., from 1659 
to 16G9, with Memoir. Edited by Lord 
Bratbrooke. 

Evelyn’s Diary. “The Diary 
of John Evelyn, Esq., F.R.S., from 1641 
to 1705-6, with Memoir. Edited by 
William Brat. 

Half Hours with the Best 
Authors. Including Biograph- 
ical and Critical Notices by Charles 
Knight. Illustrated. 

A Century of Anecdotes, 
from 1760 to 1860. By John Timbsl 
F.S.A. 


Collection of Criticisms, Mots, Personal 
Descriptions, &c., wholly referring to 
En^ish men of letters in every .^ge of 
English literature. 

Address HUR^T & 122 Nassau N.Y 0 


.AMERICAN STANDARD LIBRARY. 

Price One Dollar Each. 


AMERICAN STANDARD LIBRARY. 

% Price One Doiiar Ef.cH. 


Tennyson’s PoeticalWorks 

The Complete Works of Alfred Ten* 
NYSON. Illustrated. 

The matchless lays of England’s laureate grow 
in deserved popularity every hour. Tennyson is 
in poetry what Mendelssohn is in music, — lie cap- 
tivates and entrances by the mere melody of ar- 
rangement j but when character, sentiment, and 
story are added, he is simply unsurpassable. 

Scott’s Poetical Works. 

The Poetical W^'orks of Sir Walter 
Scott. W'’ith Memoir. 

Sir Walter’s metricai romances rank him v/ith 
the noblest of authors. “ Manmon,” “ The Lady 
of the Lake,” “The Lay of the Last Minstrel,” 
and many others, will be read with intinite zest 
while man Inis a heart to throb at deeds of daring, 
and woman a tear to shed for hapless lovers. 

Byron’s Poetical Works. 

The Complete Poetical Works of Lord 
Byron. 

The poet who was refused a tomb in "Westmin- 
ater Abbey has a renown only limited, by human 
Intelligence. He roams from the deepest tragedy 
In “Childe Harold ” to the lightest humor in “Don 
Juan”; and in every mood and styleJis stands un- 
paragoned. 

Arnold’s Poems. The Poems 
of Edwin Arnold. Containing “The 
Light of A.sia,” “The Indian Song of 
Songs,” “Pearls of the Faith, or Islam’s 
Rosary,” and other poems and transla- 
tions. 

This beautiful volume of the poetical works of 
Edwin Arnold includes “The Light of Asia,” 
“ The Indian Song of Songs,” and “ The Thousand 
Sacred Names of Allah,” e-splaining and illustrat- 
ing the three dominant religions of Asia, — com- 
prising nearly half the descendants of Adain. 
These great poems combine the might of Milton 
with the melody of Moore. 

Heine’s Poems. ^^The Poems 
and Ballads of Heinrich Heine.” 
Translated hy Emma Lazarus. With 
biogiaphical sketch. 

No one with the siigiitest pretence to taste can 
afford to be without this book. IIicink had all 
CAanYLE’s bitter hatred of shams ; but he wielded 
a keen Damascus blade instead of a Thor’s battie- 
axe. This translator fully appreciates and renders 
the polished irony and terrible sarcasm of tills 
great poet and most unhappy maii 

Kingsley’s Poems, including 

“The Saint’s Tragedy, ” “Andromeda,” 
Songs, Ballads, &c. By Rev. Charles 
Kingsley. 

The Kev. Charles Kingsley has an enviable name 
as an author of novels, essays. lecture.s, and fairy 
tales, — as witness “Hypatia,’’’ “ Glaucus,” “Water 
Babies,” “ Town Geology.” &c. The great variety 
of his prose subjects and tueir admirable treatment 
explains the worth and beauty of his poetry, — now 
first printed in tliis elegant style. 

Begendary Ballads of Eng- 
land and Scotland. Com- 


Tlie Poems of Victor Huso« 

With Memoir. 

The poetic works of this“ old man eloquent ” 
exceed m quantity and excel in onnjity those of 
any of his gifted countrymen. This volume con* 
tains poems upon almost every subject of human 
interest, embracing Love, Romance, Childhood, 
M’ar, Freedom. Exile, and hundreds of other 
themes : and every theme he touches he vivifies 
aTid ennobles by the grandeur and beauty of his 
rhythm aiMl language. 

Jolmson’s Lives of the Eng- 
lish Poets. Lives of the 
Most Eminent English Poets. With 
Critical Observations on their works. 
,To which are added the “Pi’eface to 
Shakspeare, ” and the Retdew of ‘‘‘ The 
Ori^ of E^dl.” By Samuel Johnson, 
LL^. "W ith a sketch of the author’s 
life, hy Sir Walter Scott. New 
edition, with a complete index. 

Homer’S Iliad. Translated by 

Alexander Pope. 

The feats of Achilles and Hector, the arts of the 
beauteous Helen, the prophetic ravings of Cassan- 
dra, the death of Priam, and the fall of Troy, are 
but a few of the grand and pathetic episodes that, 
in this poem, like stars in the heavens, glitter in 
imperishable glory forever. 

Homer’S Odyssey. Translated 

hy Alexander Pope. 

Though the Iliad is “one pure and perfect 
chrysolite,” the Odyssey is its worthy companion. 
It so absorbingly carries us along with Ulysses and 
his companions in their devious and wonderful ad- 
ventures in trying to regain their homes after the 
tall of the doomed Trojan city. Tope’s clear-cut 
crystal diction finely renders the stirring narrative. 

Book of Erencli Songs. 

Translated hy John Oxenpord. With 
copious notes, and with the Songs also 
in the original. To which is added 
specimens of the early poetry of France 
from the time of the Troubadours and 
Trouveres to the reign of HenryQuatre. 
By Louisa Stuart Costello. lUust. 

Spanisli Ballads, and Cliron- 
iele of tlie Old. “Spanish 
Ballads.” Translated hy J. G. Lock- 
hart jLL.H. “The Chronicle of the 
Cid.” Translated by Robert Southey. 

Every-day Book of Modem 
Literature. A series of short 

readings from the best authors. Com- 
piled and edited by Geo.H.Townsend. 

Lockhart’S Idfe of Scott. 

“Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter 
Scott.” By J. G. Lockhart. 
Hudibras. By Samuel Butler. 
With Notes and Preface by Zachary 
Grey, LL.D. 


piled and edited hy S. Roberts. 

AAdress^lil^T^ CO. 122 Nassau St. N. Y. 


AMERICAN STANDARD LIBRARY. 

Price One Dollar Eachi 


Poems of Greene, Marlowe, 
and Jonson. “The Poems of 
Robert Greens Christopher Mar- 
liOWE, and Ben Jonson. Edited, with 
Critical and Historical Notes and Sep> 
arate Memoirs of the three writers. 
By Robert Bell. 

This triumvirate of literary giants is only over- 
top^d in part by the “ cloud-capped ” genius of 
fihaltspere. Their poems, though differing in de- 
gree, are all marked by a wouderfhl affluence of 
imagination, vivified by a great dramatic power of 
characterization, and rich, sonorous, and, at times, 
delicate expression. 

Tasso’s Poems. The “Jeru- 
salem Delivered” of Torquato Tasso, 
translated into English Spencerian 
verse by J. H. Wiffen. 

The fiery splendor of Torquato Tasso’s diction 
tta^'&Svered with undying luster the gallant deeds 
of fhtise knights who “ ’gainst the infidels displayed 
the blessed cross, and won the holy land.” Nor is 
the “Jerusalem Delivered ” wanting in passages 
of tender love-making, — heart-entrancing and pa- 
thetic. It ID hard to say which is first of the glo- 
rious galaxy of Tasso, Petrarch, and Dante. 

Petrarcli’s Poems. The Son- 
nets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of 
Petrarch. First completely trans- 
lated into English verse by various 
hands. With Life of Petrarch. 
While the fair land of Italy was deluged with 
fraternal blood, Petrarch, the sweetest poet that 
ever attuned the lyre to love, produced the im- 
mortal “ Sonnets ” that have outlived all the fret 
and fury of sanguinary frays. No lovers— be they 
of either sex— know anything of what can be said 
and sung of “ the old, old story’ ’ of “ t wo souls with 
but a single thou^t, two hearts that beat as one,” 
until they study Petrarch. 

Virgil’S Poems. Translated into 
English by John Dryden. 

The justly nigh estimation in which Virgil is 
helJ Is well shown by the fact that Dryden, one 
of England’s grandest poets, was glad to “ play 
second lute ” to him. Unlike most translations it 
loses nothing of the power and beauty of the great 
•riginaL 

Miss Mulocli’s Poems. “The 

Poems of Dinah Maria Muloch (Mrs 
Craik), author of ‘John Halifax, Gen- 
tleman,’ ” &e. 

“John nalifax. Gentleman,” is one of the best 
novels ever written ; but it is quite certain that 
the author’s lasting fame will rather rest upon the 
great merits of her poems. They have every mark 
of gr«at and origin^ powers ; and they all possess 
In ai. eminent degree the qualities of force,, cil- 
ery, and dignity, united with matchless grace and 
delicacy of poetic expression. 

The Honseliold Book of Wit 

&>Ild Humor. Comprising many 
of the Wittiest Poems and Funniest 
Anecdotes extant, by the most cele- 
brated authors. Illustrated 


Twenty-Thousand leagues 
under the Sea; or, the Mar- 
velous and Exciting Adventures of 
Pien-e Aronna, Conseil his servant, and 
Ned Land, a Canadian harpooner. By 
Jules Verne. 

Five Weeks in a Balloon; or 

Journeys and Discoveries in Africa by 
three Englishmen. By Jules Verne. 

The Mysterious Islahd. 

Containing ‘ ‘Dropped from the Clouds, ” 
“Abandoned,” and “The Secret of the 
Island.” By Jules Verne. 

The Tour of the World in 
Eighty Days. By Jules Vernb. 

The Fur Country; or, Seventy 
Degrees North Latitude. By J. Verne. 
Since the time of the elder Dumns, France has 

S reduced no such fecund or original a genius as 
ulcs Verne. He has turned science into a veri- 
table fairy-land, and extracted such romance from 
hard facts as it would tax the ingenuity of any 
ordinary mortal even to conceive possible. Thu 
“Tour of the World” has become familiar to the 
public on the stage as well as in type. No less 
thrilling or rich in interest are his other famous 
and widely popular works. 

Self-Help. Witli Illustrations 
of Character and Conduct. By Samuel 
Smiles. 

All young people who desire to vanquish “ those 
twin jailers of the immortal soul, low birtli and 
misfortune,” should read and study this interest- 
ing book. All the moral maxims of Franklin are 
here incarnated in living being. We seethe strug- 
gles and the triumphs of genius in the lives of its 
noblest exemplars. 

Famous Men. By H. A. Page, 

author of “Life of DeQulncey,” &c. 

This is already a deservedly “famous” book. 
Its style is so taking that it is very charming read- 
ing for both young and old, apart from the fact 
that it gives us reliable biographies of world-noted 
missionaries, philanthropists, editors, merchant.s, 
soldiers, and scientists, — of men who have been 
an honor to our race. 

Famous Boys, and How They 

Became Great Men. 

Here is a book that every parent should place 
in his hoy’s hand. Once there, it will never go 
unread. It is written with frank plainness,— and 
every trait and act brought out, without exaggera- 
tion or false coloring. It has many fine engrav- 
ings, but its best illustrations are the'word-picturca 
of over twenty lads who in after life became leadera 
of thought and action. 

Sandford and Merton. By 

Thomas Day. Hlustrated. 

Custom can not stale the infinite variety of good 
points in this admirable book. It pleased our 
grandparents and our parents, and is more ri'ud 
and admired to-day than ever. It ie like a wril of 
pure and wholesome water— a benefaction to all 
who drink of it. 


Addresfs HURS*!! Sc €0. Nassau No IT* 



k' 







i 










V • 




t 





« 




,v 





• • V . 













PABIS 


1 5ll 












V4 












